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One Batch, Two Batch, Penny and Dime

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"Well, well, long time no see, Sammy girl."

Sam stared, her eyes wide and face pale at the man sitting before her, bruised and cut up, but that ever present cocky smirk (which she used to love) was plastered on his face as he looked her up and down slowly.

"You're looking real good Sam." Brock winked at her, but Sam was still in a severe state of shock.

"Do you two know each other?" Natasha asked, her eyes boring into Sam, same as Steve's. 

Sam swallowed before answering, her throat dry as she stared at the man she had married at the tender age of eighteen, only to walk out on him ten years later, in order to save what was left of her sanity (Riley, God rest his soul, had always asked her why she married him). And here they had come full circle ten years later; the platinum wedding band on the chain around her neck, which she wore under her shirt, was burning a hole through her chest right next to Riley's dog tags. 

"Yeah, you could say that." Her voice was raspy as if she had been screaming, and she had on the inside, since she set foot in that fucking interrogation room. Her only consolation was the fact that Brock looked just as surprised at seeing her.

"Of course we know each other." The smile on Brock's face was malicious, and Sam could feel her world shattering around her. "We shared a marriage bed, isn't that right Mrs. Brock Rumlow?"

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room; Sam felt three pairs of eyes on her and she wondered if they could hear how loud her heart was beating.

She didn't think as she turned and hightailed it out of the interrogation room.

"You got a lot of explaining to do Sam!" Brock's voice followed her, Steve was close behind her and the sound of Natasha's fist colliding with Brock's jaw echoed behind her, as she ran to escape the past that had finally caught up with her.

 

Chapter Text

Sam loved it when people underestimated, especially her enemies, because she wasn't super-soldier, had a billion dollar amour protecting her, a god from Norse mythology, a super-trained spy, and a master assassin or turned into an indestructible being. Even her friends sometimes treated her as if she was fragile and not a trained Air Force Pararescue. 

No, what Sam is, is much more powerful than her team-mates could ever be.

You know the saying, 'be careful the Murdock boys. They got the devil in them.'

Well Sam had the devil in her, and not in a figurative way, but in the literal sense. 

Samantha Toni Wilson was a devil in disguise and the only person who knew her secret was the one person she could not save as he felt from the sky, like a fallen angel; that was the first and last time she prayed to a God she had long ago turned her back on.

Sam watched as Riley was hit by an RPG and started falling.

She dove after him; pulling back her metal government issued wings so as to go faster, dodging his wings as they broke off due to the wind pressure and his parachute could not be deployed due to the damaged sustained to the jet-pack. Not that any of that mattered, Sam could see the life fading from Riley's eyes as he fell beyond her reach.

She knew that she couldn't save him and she would never allow him to sell his soul, not even to her for the chance to live longer; but she could make sure that he felt no pain, that he did not suffer.

"Dear God! Please take his soul!"

In that moment Riley's bright soul, left his body and ascended to Heaven above, while Sam was still trying to catch the body of her already dead best-friend which hit the hot desert sand with a solid thud, San landing beside it a few seconds later.

She knelt there, looking at the bruised, massacred body of the first person she had felt something for in over three millennia. 

The shock and grief she felt in that moment was suddenly overtaken by anger and she released the entirety of her powers, decimating the enemy who had fired on them. 

Sam carried Riley's lifeless body back to base, where her superiors were baffled as to how there were no traces of their enemies, as if they had just disappeared into thin air; more like burnt by hellfire but Sam decided to keep that bit of information to herself. The official report said that the enemy was wiped out by an air-raid, and Sam was sent home with an honourable discharge (her superiors saw that dangerous glint in her eyes and thought it was best, Sam thought so too), with a purple heart awarded to Riley, sitting in a velvet box, clutched in her hands.

Once Riley was in the ground, back in his native home of Ireland, Sam made her way, back across the Atlantic Ocean to make a home for herself in Washington, D.C. where five years later a blond man who she could have outrun without breaking a sweat came barrelling into her life, bringing a dangerous red head and a thought to be dead, assassin best-friend with him and for the first time in a long time, Sam had people she cared about again.

Her secret of being a devil, well that she kept to herself, making sure that there was never a weak link in the sapphire and pearl amulet she has been wearing since it was given to her a long time ago by powerful sorcerer by the name of Halvir. He made the amulet to contain some of his power, in order to conceal Sam's true appearance of black (tribal looking) markings on her skin, pointed ears, sharp teeth, golden slit eyes, her claws and her midnight black wings. She wore it under her shirts, making sure that it was never seen as she did not want to answer questions about where she got it and why hide it.

However, just one day of not being careful made her secret come to light.

It was just another day at Avengers Tower; Sam was chasing Bucky around the common room due to a prank he played on her. She had finally cornered him, not realizing that her amulet had come free of her shirt and had gotten in the way when she managed to grab him; it all happened in slow motion as Sam hand got caught on the chain and broke it.

The room was silent as the pearls and sapphire pendant fell to the floor.

No one dared to breathe as they stared in shock and confusion at Sam's true form.

Sam took a calming breath, bent over and started collecting the pieces of her amulet. She stood up after completing her task and looked at the stunned faces of her friends, silently relived that no one pulled any weapons on her as yet.

"So," her voice deep and echoing, "who wants to know the true story of Adam, Eve and the snake?"

She smiled, sharp teeth on full display, there was a sharp intake of breath from Bucky who had plastered himself along the wall and Sam felt a sick sense of satisfaction of finally showing her friends that she was in fact the most powerful being in the room.

Chapter Text

Sam has emerald green eyes; she’s always receiving double takes and compliments on how beautiful her eyes are.

She smiles and graciously accepts the compliments; while at the same time she wants to scream because she cannot take another compliment on how beautiful her green eyes are.

They are not green, jade, jungle green and the best she has ever heard moss green. 

"I love your jade green eyes." Bucky whispers in her ear as he hugs her from behind, meeting her eyes in their reflection in the mirror.

'They are emerald green. Get. It. Right.' She thinks.

"Thank you." She says instead.

What people don't know except for her mother, is that Sam was born blind. She spent the first decade of her life in the dark, until Riley came in, shining so bright, Sam swore she saw the sun in the darkness she was surrounded by day and night.

"I wish I could see what you look like." Sam used to whisper to Riley, as she stroked a hand down his face, mapping it and trying to picture what he looked like in her mind.

"I wish I could give you your sight." Riley would whisper back, before taking her lips in the sweetest of kisses and making her forget that she could not see. 

Riley died in a car accident. 

Sam was heartbroken.

However, what people don't know is that Riley gave his eyes to Sam, so that she may see what he saw and so much more. 

Sam wanted to hate Riley for doing something like that; knowing that she would not want them because it would be accepting that her best-friend, love of her life, husband was dead and not coming back; but at the same time, knowing that she would accept them, if only to keep a piece of him alive.

Sam woke up to bright light streaming into her hospital room, white fluffy clouds in blue skies. Looking in the mirror, she saw emerald green eyes staring back at her, she saw Riley staring back at her and wept. 

Sam loves her eyes because they belonged to Riley and a piece of her best-friend is still alive and not buried in a Mahogany casket, six feet under.

Sam hates her eyes because her best-friend had to die for her to see the world, where there is so much ugliness she would rather be blind again.

Sam has emerald green eyes. Get. it. Right.

 

Chapter Text

Sam was in the training room hitting and kicking a punching bag, feeling very irritated that she had to be pulling her punches, when by now the bag would have been nothing but rags that once contained sand if she had been able to use her full strength. Sam had been feeling irritated as of late, or to be more specific, since the day Steve and Bucky almost discovered her well-kept secret.

Since that day, Sam had been a bit paranoid, checking and rechecking to make sure her amulet was in top shape, not the slightest dent in any of the links and that had been grating on her nerves. In all the years Sam had spent on earth, she had never been this worried about someone finding out about her true nature; hell she had revealed herself to Riley in order to save both their lives from insurgents that had taken them hostage and were intent on beheading them, and knew that without a second thought, she would have killed him if he had ever tried to hurt her or expose her for what she really was, but he didn't. Riley had been more in awe that beings like her had existed and to learn that not all actual monsters were in fact scary and evil as he was told as a child in order to him to eat his peas and go to bed when told. 

He had been like a kid in a candy store after that, constantly asking her questions about her true nature and where she came from; questions that Sam did not get tired of answering and was more than happy to share this huge part of her life with someone apart from Halvir.  

Her skin felt tight and itchy; she wanted a reason to at least use some of her true potential, to show her team mates that she could best them, so as not to underestimate her because she looked "human".

*Punch, punch, kick*

Halvir had gone returned home two days ago, so Sam had traveled to New York, to stay with her team for a bit, not wanting to be alone in her big empty house.

*Jab, roundhouse kick, elbow, palm, punch

Sam was so lost in her head that she failed to reign in her strength and accidentally burst the punching bag. She watched dispassionately as the sand fell out of the bag like an hour glass.  

"Damn." 

Sam spun around to see Natasha watching her, a smirk on her blood red lips and Sam had the sudden desire to wipe that infuriating smirk off her lips and and to replace the red lipstick with actual blood. 

Clenching her fists, Sam tamped down on that sudden blood thirsty rage that had been creeping up her spine. And that was it; She hadn't let loose in quite sometime, and the dark side of her was screaming to be let out.

"Yeah, got some pent up energy I need to work off." The lie fell easy from her lips and that was something else, no one, not even the famed Black Widow could tell when she was lying; not that Sam was a pathological liar, but she she lied, well no one knew. 

"How about we spar?" Natasha offered, "I sure it would be better that an inanimate object that can't fight back."

Sam thought about it and shrugged, getting into a fighting stance, she made a 'bring it' gesture towards Natasha who smiled deviously and charged at her. 

If it were any other day and Sam was not feeling constricted in her human-like appearance, she would have allowed Natasha's foot to connect with her rib cage, but Sam was done playing nice and decided to let a bit of her true self show.

"What the fuck?" Natasha skidded to stop, looking at where Sam was a few seconds before. She spun around sharply in time to see Sam land gracefully on her feet.

"I knew those fifteen years of competitive gymnastics would pay off." The lie fell easily from Sam's lips again and she grinned when Natasha narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Everyone's lucky the first time."

Sam arched an eyebrow, "you sure 'bout that?"

For the next fifteen minutes, there were kicks, punches, jabs, and everything Natasha had in her arsenal of hand-to-hand combat which she threw at Sam, who had yet to break a sweat. The two women, caught up in what they were doing, were unaware that they had garnered an audience.

"I've never seen Sam fight like that." Steve said.

"Fight?" Bucky echoed, "I have never seen her move like that. Hell I didn't knew she could move like that."

Natasha was getting frustrated, she hadn't been able to land a punch on Sam, while Sam landed many.

"Do you, do you get the feeling Sam's playing with Nat?" Bucky's eyes were glued to the two women.

"Playing with her, just like a predator plays with its food before eating it." Steve said and it struck him strange to make such a comparison.

"Come on Tasha! It's as if you're not even trying!" Sam was having fun, goading Natasha and seeing the indifference fall away to give rise to frustration.

"Bitch." Natasha spat, before running at Sam again, who merely waited until her opponent was close enough, before launching herself off the floor and flipping herself over Natasha. In mid-air, while upside-down, Sam placed both her hands on Natasha'a shoulders and gave her a gentle shove, kicking her in the back to send her sprawling on her stomach before Sam once again landed gracefully on her feet. 

Sam turned and looked at the stunned assassin, still on the floor.

"I think that's enough for today. Thank for the fight, we should do it again." With that said, Sam walked off to the shower room, leaving a stunned Bucky and Steve and a perturbed Natasha staring at her.

"Ok, let me say that this is not me being a sore loser but, something's not right with Sam."

Bucky looked at her, "is anything right with any of us?"

 

Chapter Text

As Sam walked away to make a phone call to her 'mysterious' guy, Steve saw Bucky looked her up and down slowly.

"Really Buck? You just tried to kill her not an hour ago, for the third time and now you're looking at her as if you want to eat her."

Bucky looked unrepentant, "it would be a great story to tell our grand-kids of how we met."

Steve looked heaven-ward as if praying for patience, "yeah, you're definitely you."

Sam walked over to stand by Steve and Bucky, sniper eyes focused on her with an intensity that was palpable.

"Ok," she said drawing out the two letters, "Scott said that he's in and Clint is picking up both him and Wanda; in the meantime we just have to get tin can out of this trap."

"Tin Can?" Bucky was offended, "excuse you but I am the world's deadliest assassin." 

"Huh uh." Sam was not in the least impressed.

Bucky looked at Steve who raised his hands and backed away.

"I am not getting in the middle of this."

"Middle of what?" Sam questioned looking between the two reunited best-friends.

"Sam, be the great person that you are and get him out of that vise-grip, I have a call to make." Steve walked away, not wanting be caught in the crossfire when Sam throttles Bucky for ripping the steering wheel out of her hands, throwing her across the room by her face and most important, destroying her wings then trying to flirt with her. He wondered if he should be planning his friend's funeral after just getting him back.

Sam was busy undoing the vise-grip that was holding Bucky captive; she had tightened it as much as she could, without damaging his arm. She had seen the look he gave her and was doing her best to ignore him, even with how close she was standing to him, while he was still seated, in perfect line with her waist.

"So, how ya' doin'?"

Sam paused in what she was doing to look at Bucky.

"I would be great if I didn't have almost every country's authorities after my ass."

Bucky simply grinned, "well you do have a great ass."

"You did not just say that."

"A great ass along with many more great assets." Sam felt as if she was slowly being stripped naked as Bucky's eyes travelled slowly over her body as those words left his mouth.

"Annnnd, we're done here." Bucky's metal arm was now free and he stood up, towering over Sam's petite 5'1" frame with his impressive height and bulk from his super-soldier muscles. 

"Thank you."

Sam has no idea why those two innocent words sent a thrill of heat down her spine. Maybe it was the way he said it, low and husky or the fact that his eyes were half lidded with lust swimming in the depths of them. All she knew is that she had to get as far away as possible from the predator before her, because this was some dangerous territory that Sam was not going to touch with a ten foot pole.

"You're welcome." she managed to get out before beating a hasty retreat back to Steve's side, ignoring the look he gave her when she decided to basically plaster herself along his side.


Sam could not believe her fucking luck. Steve had left her alone in the small ass car he had stolen to go meet with Sharon and she sat in the front seat, trying to set him on fire with her glare, while at the same time trying to ignore the stare of the man sitting behind her.

"Can you move you seat up?"

With that one question, Sam remembered all the shit Bucky had put her through and felt maliciously vindictive.

"No."

The car rocked a little and Sam glanced out of the corner of her eye to see that Bucky had moved to the other side of the backseat.

"Why are you sitting in the passenger seat, when you are so tiny? I should be sitting up there and you could sit in my lap."

Sam gritted her teeth and get her head straight, not giving in and telling Bucky exactly what on him was tiny.

"Seriously, you what, 5'0"? You're so tiny I could just pick you up with one hand and throw you over my shoulder."

'Don't kill him Steve will be sad.' Sam repeated this mantra in her head, doing her best to ignore Bucky, but he would not give up.

"I know, since you're so tiny and you can fly, I'm going to call you Tinker Bell."

That was the final straw, Sam turned around and launched herself at Bucky, catching him off guard. She grabbed him by the collar of his red henley and banged his head off the side of the interior of the car.

"Call me Tinker Bell, go ahead, I dare you." She growled in his face.

Bucky unfazed by Sam's threat, slid his hands up to grasp her waist and that is the exact moment it hit Sam that they were in a very compromising position. By allowing Bucky to get under her skin, Sam had managed to literally flip over the two front seats into the tight space that was the back seat, straddle Bucky's toned, thick thighs and proceeded to threaten the Winter Soldier.

Bucky made that 'devil-may-care' smile and his steel blue eyes says all that his mouth wasn't saying and Sam felt her skin run hot from the tension mounting between them in the small space of that equally small car. She could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into those blue eyes, and could see that Bucky was getting closer to her as well; however the sound of a car trunk being shut close by, caused Sam to jump back and scramble back to the front seat just in time for Steve to stick his head through the driver's side window.

"Hey Sam, your wings are right over there if you-" Sam was out of the car in an instant,” want to go look at your wings."

"What's with her?" Steve looked at Sam, who grabbed her wings and walked a short distance from the car (and Bucky) to crouch behind a pillar where she could have some semblance of privacy. 

He turned to look at his friend whose eyes had a predatory look in them as he too watched Sam until she disappeared from view.

"What did you do Bucky?"

Bucky in turn gave Steve his puppy dog eyes, "nothing. Yet."

"Bucky." Steve said in a warning voice.

"Did you know that it's now legal for black and white individuals to be in relationships with each other?"

Steve sighed exasperatedly, "yes, Buck."

"I am going to be all up on her."

"Yeah, I am going to be burying you in the near future." Steve commented as he walked to way Sam was hiding away.

 

Chapter Text

The first time it happened Bucky thought nothing of it; it was an accident, a simple bumping into his friend after a mission that left them all haggard and stumbling. He figured that he had irritated some of her wounds and quickly apologised, making sure to put some distance between them.

The second time it happened though, that is when he knew something was up.

Sam was in the kitchen of her home, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the morning newspaper. Bucky entered the kitchen, still more than half asleep and made a beeline directly towards the coffee maker. He poured a cup of coffee and spun around looking for the milk when he spotted it through barely opened eyes, on the table to Sam's left.

Sam had her hands folded on the table to brace herself as she read the newspaper and Bucky without thinking of asking Sam to give him the milk, decided to stretch across her. Only in his sleepy state, he was unable to calculate their proximity to each other and accidentally brushed against her breasts and Sam moaned, in pleasure.

Both Sam and Bucky froze; Sam in horror and Bucky in confusion.

"I'm sorry?" It came out as a question, instead of a statement.

"Th-that's ok." 

Bucky had never seen Sam move that fast before without her wings; Sam was already out the door and in her car, driving off down the road to work. He was so confused by the incident that he spent the rest of the day on Google and what he found made his eyebrows almost touch his hairline. Bucky wanting to know if what he read was true, decided to conduct an experiment and so he was ready for Sam the next time he saw her which was that night when she got home from work.

Everyone knew that Bucky was a very tactile person, he was before the war and even more so after H.Y.D.R.A., so Sam thought nothing of it when he greeted her with a hug after a long day of work. She thought nothing about the way Bucky's entire front was plastered to hers, how he wrapped his strong arms around her and squeezed her petite body to his. She thought nothing about it because she was concentrating very hard on not moaning like a whore in a whore house from the way her breasts were being pressed against his toned chest, creating a very delicious feeling in her body. 

Sam felt like fire was coursing through her veins from the sensations going off in her body, especially in a certain sweet spot and had to squeeze her legs together to ease the sensation before she embarrassed herself.

"Good to see you too Buck." Her words were muffled from where they were said into his shoulder and Sam raised her hands to his rib cage giving him one final squeeze and then a gentle tap to signal that the hug needed to come to an end so that she could escape to the privacy of her room.

Bucky, knowing exactly what he was doing to her, wrapped his arms even tighter around her small frame, before releasing her and as he stepped away from he, giving her space, his hands trailed from her upper back, under her arms and across her rib cage where they definitely grazed the sides of her breasts and Sam almost jumped out of her skin.

"Are you ok?" Bucky looked the picture of innocent, concern for Sam coating his words.

While Sam looked about ready to bolt, "I'm fine.

"Ok, well good night." Bucky released her and watched as she all but hauled ass up the stairs and her bedroom door slammed shut so hard, that the picture frames on the wall downstairs shook.

"This is going to be very interesting." Bucky said to himself, thinking of different ways of coming into physical contact with Sam that would not be too obvious that he knew about her oh so exploitable secret.


Over the course of the next few weeks Bucky would accidentally brush, bump, graze, or make some sort of physical contact with Sam, particularly in her chest area and Sam was at her wits end. She was continuously horny and getting herself off with her toys was just not cutting it anymore. She need something harder, firmer and preferably attached to Bucky, but that is something she would be keeping to herself. He was just in his first year of healing and while he had come a long way, she still felt as though she would be taking advantage of him if she should pursue something more than just friendship, for heaven's sake, he was already living in her home at his and Steve's insistence and that's because they both have enormous trust in her and she would never do anything to jeopardise that.

However, it all came to a head one day after a mission. 

Bucky had jumped from the top of a building and Sam had to catch him. That meant she had his back pressed against her chest while he shot down enemy after enemy from the sky. That would have been ok, if not for every shot he fired didn't vibrate through him right to her breasts. Sam had to gritted her teeth and tighten her arms around him so as not to drop him. 

Now, that would have been ok, if it had ended when Sam had touched down on the ground and released her hold on Bucky, but that god damn super-soldier had other ideas.

"Thanks Sam," Bucky spun around as soon as he was back on solid ground and hugged Sam, who just like bad luck had already turned around and was walking away, causing Bucky's arms to wrap around her, trapping her arms at her sides. With nowhere to go, Sam was trapped in a hug that soon turned deadly for her; see Bucky's arms were wrapped around her, but his hands cupped her breasts and without thinking he squeezed and Sam, well she moaned.

Both friends froze in the embrace before Sam broke it and whirled around on Bucky, pupils dilated with lust swimming in them and shame burning her cheeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She hissed, wrapping her arms across her chest, as if that would erased what just transpired.

Bucky tried to play the innocent card, "nothing, I was just hugging you. I didn't know you were injured."

"Oh fuck you Barnes." She spat.

'No there's an idea.' He thought.

"You were not just 'hugging' me and you know that I am not injured. What the hell are you playing at?"

Bucky realised that the situation had started taking a turn for the worse and tried to rectify it.

"Nothing! Sam, I-" but pulled up short when Sam got into his face and he was continuously amazed that such a small person could be so frightening when she was angry.

"You were just what Barnes? Trying to cop a feel? That's all you have been doing these past weeks, but it ends now. Go ahead, have a good squeeze." Sam spread her arms as if offering herself up for a sacrifice and Bucky could not help but look at her breasts that her flight uniform did nothing to hide. 

When Bucky did not move, Sam lowered her arms.

"I thought so." She walked passed him, making sure to bump into his shoulder.

"Sam, it's not-"

"Fuck off Barnes."


 

That evening as the Avengers had downtime in the Avengers Tower, Sam was in her apartment when a knock sounded on her door.

"Who's it." She called out from her position on the couch, not wanting to be bothered.

"It's me."

Sam let her open book fall on her face; the frustration and irritation she thought she had washed away with her hot shower came flooding back.

"Go away!"

"Sam, please, just let me explain."

She shot up off the couch at those words, the thick carpet muffling the sound of her bare feet as she furiously walked towards the door and ripped it open to a stunned Bucky.

"Explain? You want to explain, why the better part of three weeks, you basically sexually harassed me?! When here I thought, if I made a move on you, I would be taking advantage of you when it was the other way around!"

"You wanted to make a move on me?" That was the only thing Bucky heard and Sam's glare would have melted him if he were a lesser man.

"You took advantage of the fact that I allowed you to be physical with me!"

"I know and I am so sorry! But, please just hear me out." Bucky begged and Sam stared hard at him.

He was about to get down on his knees and beg when Sam huffed out an annoyed breath and turned away from the door, walking back into her apartment and straight to the kitchen.

"Ok," she got out a bottle of tequila and took a healthy drink from it, "explain why you have been sexually harassing me."

"Ok, the first and second times were complete accidents."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "and the times after that?"

"Well," Bucky scratched the back of his neck and actually looked bashful, "at first it started out as an experiment."

"An experiment for what?"

Bucky swallowed, knowing that Sam was either going to maim him or kill him at his next words.

"An experiment to see if your breasts really were as sensitive as they seemed."

"What?!" Sam started, startling Bucky who began speaking faster in hopes that he would not die just yet.

"I swear, I was not trying to be a pervert or sexually harass you! I just wanted to prove my theory right."

There was a ringing silence which settle over the kitchen.

"Barnes."

Bucky flinched at the sudden sound.

"Yes?" He asked timidly.

"Run."

That was all the warning he got before launched herself over the Kitchen Island, and Bucky had the insane thought of hos such a small person could do something like that before he turned tail and ran into the living room.

"I am going to murder you Barnes!" Sam roared behind him as she chased after him. "I am going to destroy you! There will be nothing left of you!"

"Sam! I know you're mad but remember that Steve will be sad if you killed me!"

"He would get over it as soon as he found out why you died!"

Bucky didn't know if it was righteous fury fuelling Sam's body why she was able to keep up with him as he ran for his life through her apartment. It must have been the experience of flying, why Sam knew just how to slam her tiny body into his, taking him down hard to the floor.

She flipped him over onto his back and slapped him, open palm across his face.

"You asshole!"

"Sam-"

*Slap!*

"Sam just-"

*Slap!*

Bucky had had enough of being slapped and reversed their positions; with Sam on her back and her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Sam! Quit it!" He grabbed her flailing hands by her wrists and tried to pin them down.

"No!"

Thinking fast, Bucky did the only thing that would not calm Sam down, but at least get her out of a range. He quickly let go of her wrists and shoved his hands under her over-sized t-shirt, grabbing both her breast and squeezing them. Sam's reaction was instantaneous; she stopped fighting Bucky, only to moan and buck up into him.

"Sh-shit, Bucky."

Now, Bucky had only heard Sam moan, but hearing her say his name in that breathy, lust filled voice, made his blood sing and he squeezed his treasure again. This time, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they were hard. 

"Ahh!" Sam threw her head back and arched up into Bucky, her legs tightening around his waist pressing her sweet spot to his very impressive and very hard manhood. 

"Fuck, Sam, you like that?" Bucky was hard from the moment he touched Sam and he had no idea that her reactions and sounds would affect him so much, he needed to get his mouth on her. He shoved her shirt up and over her head, throwing it in some dark corner and and descended on her breasts.

"Bucky!" Sam screamed his name, her hands flying up to grab his hair and t-shirt. She gripped his hair and held him close as his lips, tongue and teeth assaulted her breasts one after the other, alternating, giving them both the same amount of attention.

Sam said his name like a prayer; chanting it, her grip on his hair borderline painful and there were a few rips in his shirt from where she gripped him. That's when he realized what was happening and released her nipple, pushing himself up on his elbows so that he could look at her and grinned wickedly when she whined at the loss of his warm wet mouth. 

"Are you going to come?" He taunted, "are you going to come with just my mouth sucking on your breasts Sam?"

Sam's pupils were blown wide, her chest was heaving and her breasts looked good, naked with Bucky's saliva on them, cooling in the air and making her nipples even harder. She was a sight to behold and Bucky could not hold back any longer.

"You're going to come just like this; with my mouth on your breasts, nothing more."

Sam whimpered and gave herself over to the sweet assault, falling over the cliff as Bucky held tight to her.

As she regained her breath, Bucky sat up on his knees and stripped off his shirt and looked her straight in her eyes; wicked grin on his lips and the devil in his eyes.

"I hope you're ready for more, because I am not letting you go after this." He flicked her sensitive nipple and making sure her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, Bucky stood up and walked towards her bedroom, where he made her scream herself hoarse and oversensitive for the rest of the night and for many more nights after that. 

Chapter Text

Sam was going to murder the asshole who was banging down her front door at 6:48 A.M. on a Saturday morning. She had had a long stressful week at work, and she had just wanted to sleep in and hide away for the day. However, some asshole had other plans and she was going to tear their throat open with her claws.

"You cocksucking ass-Halvir?!" Sam's eyes widened as she looked at her friend of over a millennia of years.

"Wow, if that's how you greet friends, I would not like to know how you greet your enemies." Halvir grinned down at her from his 6'0" height, his blue eyes sparkling with joy and magic and his jet black hair was in its natural curly form at neck length.

Sam jumped on him, causing him to drop his bag as she wrapped her legs around his waist and his arms came to wrap around her back in a tight hug.

"I missed you so much Sam." he whispered in her hair.

"Me too." She whispered back, as she held her dear friend close to her.


"Ok, not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Sam was currently cooking breakfast for the both of them, while Halvir was busy swiping through the pictures on her phone.

"Can't I just come and visit my oldest friend?"

He didn't have to look at her to know the 'don't bullshit me' look she was giving him.

Sighing he put down the phone and gave her his undivided attention.

"The kids are alright. I swear, I just wanted to come and visit you, no ulterior motives here." 

"Ok. And you're sure the kids are alright?" Sam knew it had been a long time since she had seen the kids, but she received weekly updates on them from Halvir.

"Yes, they are. They are conquering the world and they miss you."

"I need to visit them soon." Sam said guiltily. "I feel as if I have neglected them."

Halvir stood up and walked around the kitchen island, stopping in front of Sam and drawing her into a hug.

"Don't be like that, they know that you are very busy right now, but don't ever doubt that they think you neglecting them. They know that you love them; hell, you razed a town to the ground for them, if that doesn't say 'I love you,' I don't know what does."

Sam smiled, remembering the hell week she went through when they went missing. She knew that she would have lost her mind if not for Halvir standing right beside her all those years ago during her frantic search.

"Yeah, I know. I will visit them as soon as I can."

"Great." Halvir released her and went to set the breakfast table. "Now, with that out of the way, care to tell me how Steve and Bucky have not recognized you as yet?" 

Sam stopped in her tracks and looked at Halvir.

"I have no fucking idea."

1941

The music in the bar was great and what was even better was that no one had given her or Halvir a second glance.

Since setting foot on American soil, especially in certain states they were met with hostility due to Sam's skin colour and the fact that they all thought Halvir was her husband.

But here in Brooklyn, no one cared and everyone welcomed them. 

Sam sat at the bar, waiting for Halvir to return from the restroom when she felt someone take a seat beside her.

"What's a beautiful lady like you sitting all by her lonesome?"

Sam turned to face the smooth voice who spoke to her and found herself staring in extremely beautiful, hypnotizing eyes, with a gorgeous face.

She raised an eyebrow, "and who says I'm alone?"

The beautiful stranger glanced around and looked back at her, "I don't see any man rushing over to claim you."

She laughed at that, "oh, honey, no man can every claim me."

"So, you do the claiming?" Sam did not miss the heat behind his words or the lust in his steel blue eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You sure are something else, Miss?"

Sam stuck out her hand, "Abigail."

"Bucky." The gorgeous stranger introduced himself and shook her hands.

"Interesting name."

He grinned a mega-watt smile, "if you stick around long enough, I'll tell you the story about how I got it."

Sam was about to reply when she saw Bucky's eyes widened slightly and felt a presence and knew exactly who was standing behind her.

"Who's this darling?"

She grinned and leaned back into Halvir.

"Hal this is Bucky, he was keeping me company while you were busy."

Halvir stretched out his hand towards Bucky who shook it.

"Nice to meet you." He said pleasantly.

"I didn't mean any disrespect." Bucky started to explain but Halvir waved it off. 

"It's ok. No harm, no foul."

Bucky relaxed, glad that he was not going to be punched for flirting with another man's wife. 

"Your accent where are you-"

"Oi! Asshole say that again!"

All three heads whipped around to where the voice came from in the corner and saw a crowd forming over there.

"Oh shit."

Sam looked at Bucky, "what?"

Bucky looked heavenward as if he was praying for strength.

"My friend is about to cause chaos."

"Should we go get him?" Hal questioned, not seeing who Bucky was talking about.

"Yeah, he's the short blonde spitfire. Just pick him up and run."

Sam, Halvir and Bucky got up and threw themselves into the fray. It took them about two minutes to get Steve off of the man he was beating for calling another young man a cocksucker and another three minutes to drag his scrawny ass out of the bar and a few blocks down the street. 

"Who the hell are you?!" He asked Sam and Halvir when he had calmed down.

Bucky gave him an unimpressed look, "your mother is rolling in her grave from your behaviour. This is Abigail and Hal."

"Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure."

Steve looked them up and down, "Bucky flirted with you didn't he?"

Sam laughed and Bucky groaned.

"Yeah, but he's a charming young man."

"Unlike you." Bucky interjected. "What was that all about?"

"That guy was in there throwing words at Matthew, I told him to apologise and he laughed so I forced one out of him."

Sam and Halvir laughed at Steve's explanation.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face, "what the hell am I going to do with you?"

Steve looked at him, all soft corn-silk hair and bright blue eyes, "take me and our new friends dancing?"

"Considering that my friend made such a unforgettable first impression, would you both let us take you dancing and show you all that Brooklyn night life has to offer?" Bucky asked.

Sam and Halvir looked at each other and shrugged.

"That sounds amazing."

The four new friends stayed in each other's company for the rest of the night, dancing, eating, drinking and having fun; parting only when the sun had begun to show itself.


Sam remembered that fateful meeting as if it were yesterday and not 75 years ago.

"So, what do you want to do?" She asked, taking a seat across from him to eat breakfast.

"How do you feel about going out dancing?"

Sam grinned, "I have the perfect little black dress in my closet dying for a night out."


"Oh my God! I still can't believe the way fashion, music and dancing has changed!" Halvir said as he and Sam stumbled down the side walk arm in arm, from laughing too much. They had just left a club where they had fun dancing and drinking for over three hours, not that they could get drunk.

"I know! That girl was practically naked! And the guy had on neon blue eyeliner! I just can't deal at times!" Sam laughed and then hiccuped and the two friends started laughing again.

"Hey, look!"

Sam looked in the direction, in which Halvir was pointing and saw a 24 hour ice cream parlor.

She grinned "it's as if you read my mind." She steered him in the direction of the ice cream shop across the road.

"Sam?"

The two friends froze and then slowly turned around to face Steve, Bucky and Natasha.

'Well fucking hell.' She immediately opened up a telepathy channel between her and Halvir, and they both felt each other's unease. She was immensely glad that she was smart to tuck the end part of her necklace inside the neck of her dress instead of having it hanging freely. She knows how humans are drawn to the sight of the magic filled jewel.

"Hey Steve." Sam's voice sounded a bit hysterical to her ears. 

'Oh shit.' Halvir thought.

'It was one thing for Steve and Bucky not to remember me by myself, but what the hell is going to happen with the two of us together?'

Bucky was looking between the two of them, his eyes then settled on Halvir with the intensity of a sniper.

"Have we met before?"

Sam felt herself pale.

'Shit.' 

"I don't think so; this is my first time visiting America. My name is Owen." He lied easily, while he was gripping Sam's hand tightly behind their bodies that were plastered to each other's side to side. Something Bucky did not miss and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Where are you from? I can't place your accent." Bucky was like a dog with a bone once he focused on something or someone.

Halvir cleared his throat, "Romania, but I spent some time in Wales. My accent is a bit screwy."

'Ha! That's one way of putting it.' Sam was sweating bullets; she did not need this, not now, not tonight. 

Bucky nodded, but now he was looking at Sam and then Halvir again.

"I can't figure it out, but I know I've seen your face before."

"Maybe it's from your time as the Winter Soldier?" Sam said and all eyes turned to her and she swallowed. "You have been around for a long time Buck, may be you met someone that looks like him, or maybe you both have crossed paths before without knowing it."

"You did spend two years in Romania Bucky." Natasha said, though she was looking at Sam and Halvir with suspicion in her eyes.

'Should I lie and say that I have not been in Romania for the last two years?'

'No! That will just raise more suspicion.' We need to leave. Now.'

"Yeah, that could be it."

Bucky nodded but he still looked doubtful.

Sam need to get out of there fast.

"Hey, it was great seeing you guys, but we have to go now." She started to turn with Halvir, only to feel a large hand on her shoulder stopping her and it took everything in her not to grab the offending hand and throw the owner of it over her shoulder. 

She turned back around to find Steve staring hard at her.

"You know, now that Bucky has mentioned it, you do look oddly familiar Sam."

"Oh fuck you Steve. I am being serious." Bucky grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and pouting like a toddler.

He glanced at Bucky, but his eyes were quickly back on Sam.

"I am being serious. The first time I saw you, I felt as though we had met a long time ago."

Sam's heart was beating through her throat.

"Really Steve?" She said as sarcastically as she could. "Now you?"

He stared down into her deep brown eyes and Sam felt as if he was trying to look into her soul which no longer existed.

"Have we met before?"

Time came to a halt for Sam.

"Yes, Steve, we have." Sam wanted to murder something or someone, "we met four years ago, remember? You kept lapping me while I was jogging."

Steve shook his head, "did we meet each other, the four of us along time ago?" 

'Fuck. It. All. To. Hell. This can't be fucking happening!' Halvir was having a meltdown and Sam was trying to figure out the best course of action.

She sighed and rolled her eyes good naturedly, when on the inside she was setting the world on fire. 

'What the hell is wrong with these two assholes?!'  Sam raged in her head to Halvir.

"Steve, sweetheart, honey bun, if we had met a long time ago, we," Sam waved her hand at both herself and Halvir, "would be either real fucking old or dead. Now maybe you're saying we look real good for two, 100 and odd years old human beings, but I can tell you that the four of us have definitely never met each other before." 

Halvir let go of Sam's hand which was more than likely deformed from how hard he was squeezing it. 

"Brilliant!" He clapped his hands together, "now that we have met and gotten the fact that we have never met out of the way ice cream is waiting for me and Sam over there." He pointed across the road and grabbed Sam's hand, pulling her away from her friends, with their curious eyes and even sharper minds.

"Ne mai vedem!" Halvir shouted.

"See you later guys!" Sam shouted as she jogged a little to keep up with Halvir's rushed pace.


"That did not just fucking happened." Halvir said, once he and Sam were safely across the road and in the ice cream shop. 

Sam was glad that the ice cream shop was empty and the server was in the back getting refills, because there were now two sets of finger indentations in the counter.

"Shit! Sam your eyes."

She looked in the window and saw golden eyes staring back at her."

"I'm going to have to up the magic in these jewels," Halvir ran his fingers along the necklace, "but in the meantime you have to breathe."

Sam closed her eyes, did as told and released the counter. When she opened her eyes they were back to a normal dark brown and she let out a deep breath.

"They are not going to drop this until they get an answer."

Halvir looked at his friend, the defeat in her voice was evident on her face.

"What are you going to do when they do find out who and what you really are?"

"I'll tell you what I'm not going to do: I am not going to run. I am not running again." She looked at him, tears in her eyes, threatening to fall. "I don't care if they find out, but I am happy here; I am the happiest I have ever been in my life."

"I know." Halvir took her into his arms and held her tightly to him, Sam burying her face into his chest. "It's an odd group and super-soldiers and Norse gods, if they can't handle having a devil in the group, well fuck them, they don't deserve you."

Sam smiled, knowing that even if she lost her new friends, she would always have Halvir.

"Ok." She stepped back and wiped her eyes.

"Now, time for ice cream."

The two friends turned to look at the menu board, putting their troubles behind them for the time being, knowing that what may come, they would always have each other.


"Steve, I am not being paranoid, I swear that I have met them before." Bucky crossed his arms and stared out at the lights of Manhattan. "I don't know where, but I have this feeling that we knew them in another life time."

Steve sat on the couch, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped in front of him. 

"I hear you Buck, and I can't shake this feeling as well, but we both know that if we met them back in Brooklyn, then they would not alive today, and even if they were alive, they would not look so young."

Bucky looked over at Steve, and eyebrow raised, "look at us Steve."

Steve rolled his eyes, "we're an exception."

Bucky snorted and turned back to the window.

"Let's trust Sam and not make a mountain out of a mole hill. I'm sure if something was up she'd tell us."

"Yeah, sure." Bucky muttered.


5 months later

Steve watched as Sam chased Bucky around the room, refusing to help his friend as he did warn him that Sam would kill him if he pranked her and as the saying goes: 'those who don't hear must feel,' and Bucky was going to feel it painfully.

He watched as Sam cornered Bucky.

He watched as Sam's necklace broke.

He watched...he watched as his other best friend transformed before his eyes.

The entire room went dead silent and Sam calmly picked up the pieces of her now broken necklace.

He would never forget the sound of Sam's voice as she asked them if they wanted to hear the real story of Adam, Eve and the snake. 

He would never forget the sharp grin on her face or the way Bucky was trying to become one with the wall.

Bucky made eye contact with Steve, his eyes wide.

'Well shit.'

Chapter Text

"So they took it well? They didn't try to run you out of town with pitch forks and torches?"

"Ha ha, fuck you Halvir." Sam said good naturedly as she places a stack of perfect round pancakes in the middle of the kitchen island. She was the unofficial chef for the Avengers. Her friends all loved her cooking, especially her breakfast food, especially her pancakes and she enjoyed cooking for them. 

"I'm happy for you. I can just imagine all the names Bucky and Tony have for you."

Sam frowned, "actually I think Bucky's avoiding me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well he won't make eye contact with me, he exits any room I may enter while he's in it, he doesn't speak to me and he seems to try avoid being by himself with me."

"Maybe he's still adjusting to knowing that you are a hundred times stronger than him. That's a blow to any man's ego, just give him time."

As Halvir was speaking, Bucky walked into the kitchen and Sam's face lit up.

"Well speak of the devil." She joked and Bucky's head snapped up, his wide eyes meeting hers for the first time since he learnt of her true nature.

"Bucky's there?"

"Yeah, I have to go. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Sam disconnected the call and putting her phone in her back pocket, she walked around the kitchen island to where Bucky was pouring out coffee and stopped at a respectable distance from him.

"Hey long time no see." She smiled brightly at him and he briefly glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Been busy." His tone short curt and clipped.

His way of answering bugged Sam but she let it slide off her back like water, knowing everyone had their cranky days.

"Ok, so how about you relax now and have some delicious breakfast. I made blueberry pancakes, your favourite."

The look Bucky gave Sam could have killed her, were she not immortal and had faced down far more scarier opponents than the one standing in front of her so stood her ground, body language still open and welcoming even though she had a twisted feeling in her gut that a storm was brewing. 

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." Bucky turned to walk away, but Sam grabbed his arm.

Then the worst thing that could ever happen did.

Bucky felt Sam's hand on his arm and he spun around, opposite hand raised and delivered a stinging back-hand across her face, the unexpected act of violence making her stagger back and releasing him in the same instance. Where he struck her, turning a bluish/black colour almost immediately.

Sam's hand flew up to her injured cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief and hurt.

"Bucky, wha-"

"Do not touch me you goddamned MONSTER!" He roared.

Silence reigned as that horrible word left his mouth and Sam felt her heart shatter.

"You go around pretending to be someone you're not, pretending to be human when you're not." Bucky looked murderous, the venom of his words stabbing into Sam. "You are the stuff of nightmares. You are what sends children screaming, crying and running to their parents' room at night because they are scared of the monster in the closet."

Sam could feel the pain of his words wrapping around her throat and squeezing, slowly cutting off her air and choking her.

"Bucky, please stop."

He laughed mirthlessly at her plea.

"Oh, the monster can beg." He sneered, "I don't know how the others can stand to be around you, can still accept you, after knowing what you are."

Sam felt as if the world was closing in on her; the edges of her vision going dark.

"Come on Bucky, don't be like that. You know me." Sam took a step towards Bucky who stepped back, the look on his face cruel.

The back of Sam's eyes were burning with tears that she knew were going to fall.

"I am not a monster."

Bucky snorted.

"I am not a monster. Yes, I have been alive for a long time and yes, I have done a lot of ugly shit that I am not proud of; but I have spent the majority of my very long life righting my wrongs." Sam felt the tears pooling in her eyes threatening to fall.

"You do not know me; you have no idea of the number of persons' lives I have touched. Tell me this Bucky, if I were a monster would I have helped Steve take down Hydra and save the wold after knowing him for all of two days, hell, would I have even let him into my house, giving him and Natasha a safe haven to hide and rest?"

At that Bucky's looked a bit doubtful.

"If I were a monster, would I have trekked all over the world with Steve and sometimes without him looking for his thought to be dead best friend turned brainwashed Hydra assassin; not knowing anything about his man but the stories that Steve told me and the belief that he could bring his friend, this great man back to, if not who he once was but back to being a human being?" The first tear fell.

"Answer me this Bucky, am I a monster?" The second tear fell.

"I read about everything Hydra made you do, everything, and I never once thought that you were a monster, not once. And yet here you are, a man who I called one of my very best friends, standing in front of me, throwing that venomous word 'monster' straight into my face all because I look different when I take off a simple piece of jewellery." Sam could no longer hold in the tears and she let them cascade down her face. 

Bucky looked a mixture and ashamed of his words and behaviour. 

"Sam, I-"

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head, "you made your true feelings clear, there is nothing you can say to change it. I-"

Her voice broke, along with her strength to stand and she bent over, hands pressed against her knees to keep herself from falling to the ground with the emotional pain she was feeling. She stood, there bent over in the middle of the kitchen silently weeping, with Bucky looking on. They were so lost in their world that they did not hear anyone else entering the kitchen until they heard Steve's voice.

"Sam, Bucky, what's going on?"

Sam looked up, her eyes red to look at Steve, Tony, Natasha, Bruce and Clint who were looking between her and Bucky in confusion.

Her eyes met Bucky's, "I am many things, but a monster is not one of them." In the next instant she was gone, leaving Bucky to face a stern face Steve. 

"What the hell did you do Bucky?"

“I fucked up Stevie. I fucked up.”

Chapter Text

"You said what to her?" Steve's voice was low and dangerous and Bucky was wondering how he wasn't six feet under by now. "Do you know what Sam sacrificed the day she sided with me to take down Project Insight? Actually no, the moment she offered Natasha and I a safe haven?"

"Steve, I know I fucked up-"

"Fucked up?" Steve looked at him incredulously the other Avengers sat around the common room watching the scene unfold before them. They had never seen Steve so angry before.

"You more than 'fucked up' Bucky! I don't even know on what level you messed up but guess what pal, you just created a whole new category for your fuckery. I can't even-" Steve cut himself off and grabbed fistfuls of his hair pulling on it.

"Steve-" Bucky tried again only to be cut off when Steve held up his hand for him to stop talking. 

Bucky looked down at the floor and curled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller as if that would help him escape Steve's wrath.

"Just why? Why would you say that to her? Is it because she looks different when she takes off a piece of jewellery?" Steve didn't give Bucky a chance to answer before continuing, "look around, he waved his outstretched hand at everyone else in the room, none of us are normal. Tony has an electromagnet in his chest to keep shrapnel for piercing his heart and killing him."

"Thanks for being sensitive there." Tony called out.

Steve ignored him.

"Only God knows what they did to Natasha."

Clint snorted and muttered, "I doubt even God knows what they did to Natasha."

"Bruce turns into a giant green raging monster."

"I've never seen Steve like this." Bruce whispered to Clint who nodded in agreement.

"Thor is the fucking Norse god of thunder, his brother Loki is the god of mischief; these are actual beings that we read about growing up. I was a sickly child and young adult and look at me now," Steve spread his hands to indicate his much stronger and more durable body," I survived seventy years in the ice Bucky, seventy years, do you think that's normal? And you, you fell from a goddamn speeding train and fell down a rocky ravine, was taken by HYDRA, kept being put in and taken out of cryo-freeze for even longer than I have been awake and look at you now."

The first tear fell from Bucky's eye but Steve did not let up.

"And look at Clint."

"Oi, I am one hundred percent pure human."

"Look Clint," Steve emphasized, "do you think the things he can do is normal? He may be just human, but a man, a human being with his skills is just not normal, none of us are, so why attack Sam for what she is after all she has done for you? Did you know that when I was busy and could not look for you, Sam volunteered? For three months straight she looked for you by herself; yes, she's a supernatural being and can handle herself but at that time I thought I was sending my friend after a man who at any time could have lost his mind and kill her."

"Steve I get it. I. Get. It. I need to make this right and I am going to." The determination in Bucky's eyes did nothing to quash the anger in Steve.

"You're damn right you going to make amends and I will be coming with you to make sure you don't fuck up an already fucked up situation."

Tony leaned over and whispered to Natasha, "I think you should go with them to make sure Steve doesn't kill Bucky before he gets the chance to make amends."

With shame burning his cheeks Bucky asked the one question everyone failed to ask, "ummm...where exactly is Sam?"

Everyone turned to look at Tony who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'll get you her location in the hour."


 

Scotland

The trio stared up at the house, no, the castle before them.

"Ummm...." Bucky intelligently said as he stared up at the high castle walls.

Steve nodded dumbly, "I had no idea Sam was rich. She lives so humbly."

"This is not rich."

Steve and Bucky looked at Natasha.

"If this is not rich, then what is?"

"Tony is rich. This on the other hand," Natasha herself seemed to be at a loss for words, "this is something else entirely."

The building which stood before them was a beautiful and well cared for 13th century castle. The bricks on the outside were a vivid red as if they were recently made and the vines growing up the side that they could see, showed an artful contrast of green and red. The lawn that stretched further than the eyes could see, was a deep shade of green that made Natasha have the most unusual urge to go running across it bare-feet. 

They could hear the sea hitting against the rocks and knew that they were close to the cliffs. They could also hear what sounded like laughter and music.

"Are we crashing a party?" Steve asked and they all looked around, for the first time noticing the high end vehicles parked along the front of the house, no the castle.

"Can I help you?"

Steve, Natasha and Bucky all spun around to where the voice came from, surprised that someone had managed to sneak up on all three of them.

Before them stood a young man about sixteen, he had pale skin with freckles dotting his face, his dark brown hair was short, but long enough to be styled so that it spiked upwards The teenager was dressed in a gun metal shade of formal wear, sans his jacket, his tie was loosened, the first button on his vest suit was undone and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows showing off what looked to be like jet black tribal tattoos. 

Something about the young man put their teeth on edge but he did not look like he wanted to cause them harm, he looked oddly curious and there was something ethereal about him. 

Natasha was the first to break out of whatever spell he had them under and spoke.

"We're looking for our friend, Sam Wilson. Is she here?"

The teenager took them all in one by one before nodding his head slowly.

"Yes, she is."

"Can you bring us to her?"

Stiles looked them all up and down shrewdly, "sure come this way."

Natasha glanced back at Steve and Bucky before following after the young man. They walked around the corner of the castle, through a long and wide archway of many different kinds of flowers; daises, roses, arum lilies, carnations, amaryllis and many more whose names were lost on them, until they came to clearing with a huge white tent and even more flowers.

"A wedding." Steve said in awe. "We crashed a wedding."

"Whose wedding did we crash?" Bucky asked the million dollar question.

The teenager snorted and continued walking towards the tent, Steve, Natasha and Bucky walking a little behind him, taking in the possible hundreds of people milling around, children chasing each other, laughing and shrieking as their parents looked on in amusement.

"Is it just me or has no one even so much as glanced in our direction?"  Natasha whispered, her green eyes scanning their environment for anything out of the ordinary.

Steve and Bucky glanced around and realized that it was true. No one was staring at them, the strangers in casual wear at a formal wedding.

They walked pass a few tables until they saw who they wanted, Sam clad in a strapless, knee length, black lace dress with a satin bow tied in the middle, with what appeared to be a pair of six inch stiletto sandals. Her hair was a waterfall of dark brown curls, cascading down her shoulder with one side pinned back with a diamond hair clip. Her ears were adorned with sapphire drop earrings to match her sapphire and pearl necklace that she had on full display around her neck. She was lost in a conversation, laughing carefree and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat at the beauty that was in front of him.

His concentration though was broken when the teenagers yelled out.

"Mom!"

The trio stopped in their tracks.

"Mom?!"

Sam's head snapped up at the call and her eyes widened when she saw them. She got up and politely excused herself before walking over to them and it seemed as though the crowd parted for her, showing her reverence in that one movement. 

When she was finally in front of them, the teenager moved to stand beside her and he towered over her by a good 11".

Steve, Natasha and Bucky looked between Sam and the teenager who called her 'mom' and now looking at them side by side, similarities between the two could be seen such as the dangerous glint in their brown eyes, the same colour hair and the way they carried themselves in a non-threatening but confident manner.

Sam carefully did not look at Bucky and gifted them with a bright smile, "not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you guys doing here?"

The teenager wrapped his tattooed arm around her shoulders.

"They were looking for you, figured I would help them out."

"Thank you Stiles, now go and find your sisters; I don't need another complaint about someone's son getting drunk or any skinny dipping in Mrs. Granger’s pool."

The teenager named Stiles (what an odd name) rolled his eyes and walked off, presumably to do as told. 

"So..., you have a child." Steve said dumbly.

"Children." Sam corrected, "two girls and a boy."

"You're a mom." Natasha hated to admit that she was still in shock at the sudden revelation.

"Yup. That I am."

"How?"

All eyes turned to look at Bucky and he quickly backtracked.

"No, I know how, just how, why did you not tell us that you had children? I mean you left them to help Steve search for me, didn't that eat at you?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously, "my children aren't as young as they look. They're all grown adults, we just have very good genes."

"Sam!"

Everyone turned to look at where the voice came from and saw Halvir, Sam's friend waving at her and pointing at something out of sight under the tent.

"Listen you guys come and enjoy yourselves, there's still plenty of food and cake left, please help yourselves and we will talk later." She began to walk off when Bucky called her back.

"Hey Sam?"

She turned back to look at him, "yeah?"

"Your children, are they like you?"

A sharp glint entered Sam's eyes.

"I mean," Bucky swallowed, "are they gifted?"

She snorted, "gifted, no, they are much stronger than that."

Steve, Natasha and Bucky were left wondering when exactly their world was tilted upside-down.


They did as told and joined the party; Steve and Natasha however, were being more sociable than Bucky at the moment who sat at a table by himself, his sniper eyes continuously following Sam as she took care of the wedding guests, while making sure the bride and groom remained under control. Apparently the bride and groom decided to see which of their guests they could drink under the table and things were getting a bit out of hand, that's why Halvir called in Sam.

So, there he sat by himself watching Sam until Stiles dropped himself down in a chair across from him, his eyes hard and Bucky would not admit under threat of death, but the look in the teenager's (no, not teenager) eyes sent a chill of fear skittering down his spine.

"Bucky Barnes, the man who has been to hell and back."

Bucky smirked, "how are you so sure I went to hell?"

The smile that appeared on Stiles face was dangerous and screamed 'give me a reason to rip your throat out.'

"I know many things Bucky Barnes, many, many things, especially about you; it's one of the things about being a 'Spark.' "

Bucky wondered about that word 'spark.'

"So let me tell you this from now, my mother is going to forgive you because that's the type of person she is. But, but if you ever hurt her like that again, well I will send you back to that Nazi hell from which you escaped."

Bucky swallowed in fear, he felt as if his warm blood was replaced by ice cold water and he felt the same chill of the cryro-freeze container he was kept in when he was not being used even though he sat under a tent on a warm spring day.

"She-," he cleared his throat and tried speaking again, "she told you about that?"

"Damn right she did, you cocksucking assho-"

"Stiles." A beautiful young woman in a yellow flair floral dress, with long chocolate curly brown hair and eyes that matched Stiles walked up to their table and placed a hand on Stiles's shoulder pulling his attention off of Bucky who suddenly felt as if he could breathe again once those bewitching eyes were no longer staring into the dark depths of his soul.

"Yes, Allison?"

"Leave the gentleman alone, you're scaring him."

"Good, he deserves to be scared after what he said to mom."

Allison smiled down at him as if she was smiling at a child showing off his master piece of a drawing, "I know and don't worry, Abe will deal with him." Allison turned her smiled on Bucky and he realized two things in that instant: 

1) Stiles and Allison were twins.

2) Bucky fucked up big time by hurting a devil whose children seemed to be even scarier than her while still acting pleasant.

"Allison, Stiles," both them turned at the call of their names and another beautiful teenage girl walked up to them. She had long strawberry blonde hair, green intelligent eyes and had an air about her that screamed 'I am better than all of you combined.' "Mom said to get you both so that we can take some pictures and she also said to stop threatening her guest," the young woman turned to look at Bucky, a look of utter distaste on her face and then walked away.

"Trust Lydia to always walk away with a flair and with all eyes on her." Stiles said and got up, offering his arm to Allison who took it and they walked away following Lydia without as much as a backwards glance at Bucky.

"Hey, you ok?" Steve asked his friend as he joined him at the table.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, eyes wide and fearful, “children are scary."


The party had wound down, the guests having seen off the bride and groom and then making their own way home, except for those who would be staying at the castle.

The caterers were packing away the leftover food and chairs and tables, there were still a few children running around, squealing in joy as their parents tried to round them up for bed, whereas others were passed out cold on their parents shoulders being carried inside and to bed.

Bucky, Natasha and Steve helped pack away the chairs and tables as Sam told the caterers where to put the extra food inside. 

"Thank you guys so much." Sam came out with four beer bottles in her hands and Bucky was struck by the simplicity of the ease with which she carried them, knowing an ordinary person would have had trouble.

"It's no problem." Steve said, accepting the bottle offered to him, "I mean we did kind of crashed the wedding."

"Well this is Scotland," Sam stretched out her hands wide indicating the entire country, "we're all friends here; just don't sleep with anyone's significant other and peace will remain."

They all laughed at that, but an awkward silence soon reigned, but bless Sam's heart she did not allow it to drag out.

"I assume there's a reason you're all here."

"Yeah, about that," Bucky scratched the back of his neck and his face was red, "I'm-"

There was a sudden loud boom and everyone jumped, spinning around to where the sound came from.

"Don't worry! It's just a small fire!" Stiles shouted as he ran from behind a wall of the castle to inform his mother and then ran back behind it, Sam assumed to put it out.

She took a long drag from her beer bottle, "you would never believe that those children are in fact adults and they all have excellent control over their powers. You were saying Bucky?"

Bucky opened his mouth to speak again, only for another explosion to sound.

"Oh my God! Stiles!" That shout came from Lydia this time.

"Ummm, shouldn't you go and see if they are ok?" Steve threw a worried look in the direction of where Stiles, his siblings and some other children were.

"Nah, they're fine, however, Bucky and I should probably go inside to actually begin our conversation." She took hold of Bucky's elbow and pulled him up effortlessly and once he was on his feet, Sam slid her hand down to his wrapping her fingers in a firm grip around his hand, "we'll be right in the kitchen if you need us. Stiles! Try not to burn down the place!"

"I make no promises." He yelled back.

With that Sam and Bucky walked calmly away from Steve and Natasha, their joined hands swinging gently between them.

Natasha folded her arms across her chest "and what are we supposed to do while they're busy catching up?"

"Want to see what they're doing over there behind that wall?"

Natasha and Steve looked at each other and then took off running so see just what the hell was going on."


"So what have you got to say to me?" Sam asked as she hopped up on the kitchen counter, making herself comfortable and right at that moment with her being at Bucky's eye level, he never really noticed how small and short she is, to him Sam always seemed to be larger than life itself.

Bucky coughed, cleared his throat and looked everywhere and anywhere but at Sam, who just sat on the counter, waiting for him to gather his thoughts and feelings patiently, while at the same time Bucky felt his face get hotter and hotter.

"I'm an asshole. I never, never should have said what I said to you. Sam, you have been nothing but a saint for the entire time that I have known you. When you and Steve had just found me and brought me back home you were so kind to me and when you had to leave for trips Steve would not stop singing your praises and that made me want to get closer to you. I mean, you were this perfect person."

Bucky stopped speaking, his words hanging heavy between them.

"But then you truly found out what I am and your idea of me being 'perfect' shattered like a fallen mirror."

"Yeah."

Sam gently smiled at him, like a fond parent would their child.

"No one's perfect Bucky."

"I know that, but you were on this high pedestal long before I met you and it just seemed to get higher and higher the more I got to know you."

"And I fell from that pedestal a long time ago Buck. I am a fallen angel, cast out of Heaven, my once white wings turned the colour of ash and with the amount of sinning I did once my feet hit the ground, they only got darker and darker that if I look at them for too long I feel as if I am staring into the abyss."

Bucky remained silent.

Sam smiled bitterly and looked down at her hands, palms up, "I have so much blood on these hands it's not even funny."

Sighing the sigh of a tired soul who had seen too much and done too much, "I don't even remember when I decided to change my ways, I just knew that I became tired of causing so much destruction."

"I know what you mean about destruction," Bucky looked at his metal hand, "I may not have had a choice in it, but it was still me."

Sam nodded, "but I don't hold that against you."

"Unlike me who saw you for what you are instead of who you are."

Just then Allison ran into the kitchen, her heels clacking against the tiles and grabbed the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry everything is fine, this is just a precaution." She explained.

"Do I even want to ask?" Sam looked tired.

Allison stopped in her tracks, bit her lip and looked like she was thinking very hard about what to say, "no." She then ran back out of the kitchen to where she had come from.

Bucky looked back at her in bemusement, "aren't you even the least bit worried about what they're up to?"

"Nah, they know what they're doing," she seemed to have rethink her words, "whatever it is that they're doing."

"You sure 'bout that? I mean Steve and Natasha are out there with them."

Sam paled at that, "shitttttt."

Bucky nodded in understanding.

"Hello?"

Both Sam and Bucky looked in the direction from which the new voice sounded, an older gentleman looking to be in his eighties walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Abe."

The man called Abe nodded his head in acknowledgement, "mother."

And Bucky choked on his beer.

"Mother?!"

He looked between the young looking Sam and Abe who was well on in his years.

"Ah," Sam hopped off the counter and walked over to Abe, taking his hand and pulling him over, "Bucky, I'd like you to meet Abe, my youngest child."

Bucky had a look that screamed his brain had just broke down.

Abe chuckled, "explain it to him properly."

"I adopted Abe after my other three children were born and seeing that he is 100% human, he has aged, whereas the others have remained young looking."

"Well Bucky it's nice to meet you." Abe gave him a friendly smile and stretched out his hand towards Bucky.

Bucky coming back to his senses clasped the outstretched hand, "likewise-" he immediately cut himself off when he looked down and saw a series of numbers looking faded with wrinkled skin on Abe's forearm.

Abe knew what he saw and sighed.

"Mom rescued me from Belsen, after I survived a death march from Auschwitz as a mere babe."

"Oh." Was all Bucky could say. He was so ashamed of what he said to Sam and how he had behaved after discovering her true nature. Here she was surrounded by her family, with one of her children telling his story of how she had rescued him from the same people he had died fighting and he called her a monster. 

He turned towards Sam, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Sam I am so sorry. I hurt you-" the tears began to fall and his voice broke.

"Hey, hey, no, Bucky," Sam stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "it's ok, I forgive you Bucky." She pulled back a little so that she could look at him. "Bucky look at me, I forgive you."

Bucky sniffled and wiped his eyes, "you really shouldn't."

"Tough, because I do."

They smiled at each other, with a tinge of colour colouring Bucky's cheek.

"Thank you-"

"MOM!" Allison startled the three occupants in the kitchen, "Stiles turned the barn into a gingerbread house!"

Sam felt her eye twitch. 

"Tell him to change it back this instant."

Allison bit her bottom lip, looking everywhere but at her mother.

"Allison Isabella Wilson, spill it."

"He turned himself into a toad and his magic is going haywire." She said in a rush.

Sam stared at her daughter and then sighed the sigh of a put upon parent.

"I am going to murder his ass. You two," she pointed at Bucky and Abe, "stay inside, I don't anymore collateral damage."

"Go easy on the kid mom."

"His ass is way older than you Abe."

Abe waved a hand dismissively, "technicalities."

Sam and Allison disappeared out the doors and Bucky and Abe were left alone.

"And then there were two." Abe turned to look at Bucky, a bright smile on his face that set Bucky's teeth on edge, "have a drink with me." It was more of a command than a request and Bucky was afraid of what would happen should he refuse.

"Sure?" it came out strangled.

Abe smiled wide and led him over to the kitchen table before getting a bottle of scotch and two glasses and pouring them both healthy servings.  Holding up his glass Abe made a toast, "here's to family, friends and forgiveness." 

Bucky couldn't help but feel a threat behind that word 'forgiveness' and swallowed his scotch almost choking on it.

"Another?" Abe asked and poured another glass of scotch before Bucky could say otherwise.

As the two men sat in a heavy silence, drinking, they could hear a commotion outside; screaming, shouting, something that sounded like fireworks and finally an eerie silence.

"Um-" Bucky cleared his throat, "should we go and see if they are ok?"

"Nah, they're good." Abe said, still with that friendly smile on his face.

"You're brother has already threatened me and your sister said that 'Abe will deal with him' so can you do what it is you're supposed to do and just let me know if I should have updated my will."

The smile dropped instantly from Abe's face, "ok, I was trying to ease into it, but fuck it; let me tell you this young man," Bucky found it hilarious that a man he was older than in years but not in looks was referring to him as such, "that brave, selfless, extraordinary woman, whom you called that filthy word, 'monster'" he spat "saved not only my life but countless others. She razed that damn place that was our hell to the ground. If it weren't for her I would not be here today."

Abe took a breath before continuing, "now I was just a baby when she did this, but she took me in and raised me as her own, something she did not have to do but did, so whatever she may have done in the past, before she met me, well I don't care for none of that stuff. All I know is a caring mother who will take on the world to defend her family, friends and those who can't defend themselves. So let me tell you this sonny," Abe may not have been Sam's biological child, but he was truly her son by the glare he levelled at Bucky, "if you ever call my mother a monster again, I will show you a true monster."

Bucky shrank down in his seat, "yes, sir and I am sorry again for how I behaved."

"Well it's all in the past, what matters now is that you came, apologised, mom forgave you and all is well with the world."

"Get you asses inside! All of you!" 

Bucky and Abe turned see a fuming Sam walking behind her chastised children, Steve and Natasha.

"You all know how dangerous it is to fool around with your magic, I don't care how gifted you are."

"We're sorry mommy." Allison stepped forward and gave Sam what could only be described as a diabetes inducing smile.

Sam was having none of it, "to bed with the lot of you."

Stiles sighed, "well it was fun while it lasted." He kissed his mother on the cheek, with Allison and Lydia doing the same and the three of them made their way upstairs after bidding their guests good night.

There was blessed silence for a few seconds before Sam wheeled around and pointed her finger at Steve and Natasha.

"And you two are just as bad!"

"Sam-" Steve tried only to be cut off by her.

"Why would you dare him to turn him turn himself into an animal and try to work magic?"

He shrugged, "he said he could and I said to prove it."

"You know what? Upstairs with your ass too, both of you." She pointed in the direction of the stairs.

Bucky laughed, "good going Stevie, when's the last time you got sent to bed early."

Steve subtly flipped him off.

Abe stood, "I'll show them where they can sleep. Oh, I'm Abe by the way." He introduced himself.

"Thanks Abe." Sam said, as she and Bucky watched him lead Steve and Natasha upstairs. "Back to the original two." 

Bucky turned to look at Sam, "yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck. The silence was heavy between them, but bless Sam's heart, she took mercy on the man standing before her.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room." She grabbed him by his hand and led him up the stairs, turning off the main lights and Bucky realised that there were nightlights placed strategically casting a warm glow along the hall way should anyone have to walk through it during the night.

They walked in silence, hand in hand until Sam stopped in front of a huge door and turned to face him, not letting go of his hand, something Bucky noticed and was happy about.

"This is your stop, you'll find everything you need in your room and you have your own bathroom. I am right around the corner, last door at the end of the hall, come get me if you need anything."

"Wow, my own bathroom that's great, won't have to share with Steve and see his pale ass."

Sam laughed at that and Bucky was happy that he made that sound come out of her.

"Well good night Bucky, try and get some sleep because breakfast is going to be crazy in the morning."

"That sounds like a threat."

"Oh, it's no threat." Sam looked serious, "I really do mean that it's going to be crazy. Let's just say that having a bunch of people who can do magic, with majority of them being under the age of 10 and not morning people, it will get crazy. So be prepared to have a few cooking and eating utensils fly pass your head."

Bucky chuckle, "your family sounds like a delight," and he meant it.

Sam smiled gently, "yeah, they are. Well I may be a devil but even today wore me out, I'm going to get some rest."

She walked off, their joined hands breaking contact.

Bucky watched as she turned the corner and disappeared from view before calling out to her, "hey Sam?"

She stuck her head back around, curiosity in her voice, "yeah Buck?"

"We good?"

She looked at him and walked back to him until she was in his personal space and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Yeah, we're good."

Bucky smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Thank you." 

Chapter Text

Sam has never read a Harry Potter book; whenever she tells someone this, she receives weird looks, as if she has missed out on something extremely relevant to her life.

Well joke’s on them, because what people didn't know is that the reason she has never read a Harry Potter book is because she has lived the story.

The entire Harry Potter series tells the events of Sam's childhood as a young witch coming into her powers as well as the life and death adventure she had with her two best friends.

Harry Potter or Casimir as was his name in real life when he drew breath was Sam's best friend, who died saving their world, Wistal, a distant land of another dimension, where magic overflowed like a cup being filled with too much water.

Sam formerly Cordelia, remembers when, Avery, now known as Autumn, or Ron Weasly in the Harry Potter series, called her up and told her idea of making their life into a book. At first Sam was hesitant, but their story had to be told; only they had no idea how much their story would have come to be cherished and loved by the entire world; a world they had chosen to make into their home after the death of Casimir. 

The only thing Sam knows is that 'Harry Potter' survives the great battle at the end of the series; the battle in which Casimir had to give up his life in order to defeat the darkness and so that everyone else would have a chance to live. Other than that she knows nothing else, staying away from the books and the movie theatres when the movies were out and there was a frenzy to see them.

That's why during movie night at the Tower she lies.

"Riley and I made a promise to never see the movies without each other."

Her words were met with pity and she felt guilt at lying to her friends and using her dead friend to assist with the lie.

"And I intend to keep my promise to him." She said and made her way out of the movie room and back to her bedroom where she could still hear the screams of Casimir's mother as she held her son's lifeless body in her hands.

Sam never asked Autumn who her character was, but she couldn't help overhearing Bucky the next day after his first time watching the first movie, gushing about a smart as a whip little witch who kept her crazy friends in line, took shit from no one and didn't let the fact that her parents were normal human beings stop her from being at the top of her class.

Knowing that that little witch was modelled after her, Sam apparated out of the tower as fast as she could to the highest mountain peak she knew of, so that no one would hear her wails as she cried for her friend who died so that she could live and for a life she left behind.

Chapter Text

He had first seen her after the fight on the bridge, when he and his team had arrested, Natasha Romanoff aka The Black Widow, Steve Rogers aka Captain America and her. Brock had no idea who she was at the time, but something about her pulled him to her like a moth to a flame and he had decided then and there that whatever happened to her comrades, she would be going home with him where she would stay by his side.

So imagine his surprise which soon turned into raging hot anger when he opened the back of the transport vehicle to find it empty with a big-ass hole in the bottom of it. 

Brock was going out of his fucking mind during the last fight, wondering if he would see her again and much to his delight he did see her. Brock’s delight, however soon turned into horror as he watched the fucking Asset drag her from the sky, tear off one of her beautiful wings and kick her off the helicarrier to her death. He had no time to find out if she had died or lived because he had his orders and had to continue moving in order to get to his boss. 


Sam had no idea that she was the sole obsession of the man she was about to take on, all she knew is that she had to stop him and with that thought in mind, delivered a hard right hook across his face with her closed fist as soon as he walked through the door she was hiding behind.

Her next hit was blocked and she was solidly knocked on her ass when he head-butted her. Sam was on the floor looking up at him when he started speaking.

"Order only comes through pain, but for you I will make an exception."

"The fuck does that mean?" Sam asked as she cautiously got back to her feet and they began circling each other, waiting for the other to strike first.

The smile he gave her made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

"It means I like what I see and I want you. Stay out of this mess, out of HYDRA's way, come to me at the end, when all this is over and I will make sure that you remain unharmed. Steve Rogers does not deserve a woman like you at his side."

Sam was so stunned that she stopped moving, tilted her head to the side and looked Brock up and down.

"You want to know the craziest thing about this current situation?"

"What?"

"I actually believe you."

That was the last thing Sam said to Brock, before she attacked him and they engaged in an all-out brawl, until Steve sent one of the helicarrier's crashing into the building causing Sam to jump through a window and into a helicopter.

As the day's events began winding down, Sam forgot all about Brock and what he had said to her. She only remembered what he had said to her when Steve gave her the file they hand on Bucky.

"Sam you can rest easy, Brock's body was one of the many they pulled from the building's wreckage." Steve reassured Sam. "He was so badly disfigured that dental records had to be used to identify him. That is how dead he is."

Sam knew about Brock's body being found under the collapsed building, but she could not help looking over her shoulder, no matter which state, country or continent she was in.

Finally two years later she and Steve found Bucky.

She should have suspected something with how smooth everything went after Bucky was found, from getting him to agree to come back to the States with them, to working with T'Challa and Tony in ridding him of his triggers words and giving him a new arm, to him agreeing to stay in New York with Steve and train to become an Avenger.

She should have suspected something.

But with finding Bucky and knowing that Brock was dead Sam went home, back to work, fell back into her old routine and became complacent, thinking that the danger was gone.

She can see just how wrong she was now that she was staring down the barrel of a gun with the devil standing on the other side of it.

Chapter Text

Sam had just arrived home from school when her mother met her by the door.

"Hi baby," her mother crouched down and pulled her into a tight hug, "how was school?"

Sam returned the hug, "it was good. I got an 'A' in science and Marie made coach grab his hair in frustration when she did a back-flip off the wall during P.E."

Her mother chuckled, "you girls are going to make your coach go grey before his time."

"Well it's a good thing you are so young; you still have a lot of time before you go grey." Sam sassed her mother, a bright smile stretching across her face. And it was true, at the tender age of 24 years old, Sasha, Sam's mother was as young as could be, even to an 8 year old girl.

"Gee thank you for that." Sasha smiled and Sam thought that she looked nervous and that was her first clue that something was amiss. "Before we go in I just want to inform you that we have a visitor."

"A visitor?"

"Yeah, it's someone I have wanted you to meet for quite some time."

Sasha took her daughter's hand and they walked into their little apartment together. That is when her 8 year old, chocolate brown eyes first saw him; sitting there in the armchair (Sam's favourite chair) in their living room, in his expensive looking suit, his black shoes so shiny Sam could see her reflection from where she was standing still holding her mother's hand, his brown hair slicked back and his hazel eyes looking through the lens of stylish thick rimmed glasses.

The visitor smiled warmly when he saw her and stood as her mother walked her over to him.

"Sam, this is Harry Hart, a friend of mine." Sasha turned to look at the visitor whom apparently was called 'Harry.' "Harry, this is my daughter, Sam."

"It's nice to meet you Sam." Harry held out his hand for a handshake. 

If his clothes and the way he presented himself did not show he was well off then his posh sounding British accent screamed 'MONEY!'

"I have heard such good things about you."

“I have never heard anything about you.” Sam blinked innocently when her mother nudged her.

Now, the thing about Sam is that she is very possessive of what is hers and her mother has been hers since she was born, so this man named Harry, coming into their lives, vying for her mother's attention did not sit well with her. Not to mention she also hated it when adults lied just because she was a child. 

Sasha kept referring to Harry as her ‘friend’, (little did they know that Sam has seen them kissing each good night from her bedroom window a few nights ago) so being an eight year old Sam did what any other eight year old would have done; she embarrassed the hell out of the two adults in the room.

Sam looked at the hand in front of her with unadulterated disgust clearly expressed on her face. "'Friend?' Do friends stick their tongues down each other's throats when they say 'good-bye' to each other?"

"Samantha!" Her mother squeezed her shoulder.

"What mom?! I want to know if they do!" Sam knew what she was doing but if this man was going to insert himself into their nice little world he was going to be in for one hell of a ride.

"Harry I am so sorry." Sasha apologised and Sam rolled her eyes. "I have no idea what will come out of her mouth at times."

Harry apparently found it all amusing as he laughed. "It is fine Sasha. We were both children once." He bend down so that he could look Sam in her eyes and she had to restrain herself from flinging out her hands and pushing him over on his ass.

"You are correct Sam. Most friends do not kiss each other the way your mother and I do; with that being said, I would like to re-introduce myself, I am Harry Hart, your mother's boyfriend and it is a pleasure to meet you."

"How old are you?"

The sound of a record scratching could be heard somewhere in the distance.

"Excuse me?" Harry's eye twitched and Sam wanted to smirk.

"How. Old. Are. You?" Sam repeated herself slowly as if she was speaking to someone who had difficulty understanding the English language.

Harry glanced up at her mother who no doubt was blushing hard under her dark skin colour.

"I am 55 years old." Harry answered graciously.

"So what do you want with a young woman 31 years your junior."

"Oh my God!" Sasha was beyond mortified, Sam had never behaved this way before. She spun her daughter around to face her, "room. Home work. Now."

Sam knowing that her work was done spun back around and gave Harry a saccharine smile who raised an eyebrow at her, "it was nice meeting you Harry." She then proceeded to do as commanded by her mother. When she turned the corner down the short hallway to her room, Sam stopped so that she could eavesdrop on the adults' conversation.

"I am so sorry." Her mother apologised again. "I have no idea what got into her. She's usually so well behaved."

Sam stuck her head back around and saw Harry pull her mother into a hug, smoothing her hair down with his hands. "It's ok. It was rather refreshing having someone so tiny speak their mind. She is going to be force to be reckoned with when she gets older. 

Sam is 8 years old when her mother first introduces her to her British boyfriend.


Sam wanted to be happy for her mother when she told her that she was getting married.

She really wanted to.

Over the course of a year, after meeting Harry, Sam saw how serious both he and her mother were about their relationship. He had moved them both into his huge house, located in an affluent neighbourhood in London, England. She would never admit it but there were nights when she cried herself to sleep over the sadness of leaving the only home and friends she ever knew. Sam kept quiet about her feelings because her mother was happy and if her mother was happy, she could at least smile and pretend to be happy. 

But...but...it would mean another significant change for Sam. 

Sam was now attending an exclusive private school, where she was at the top of her class; her teachers, as well as her schoolmates all seemed to like her, though Sam had no idea why considering she kept to herself. For her ninth birthday, Harry had surprised her with piano lessons which she graciously accepted. She knew her mother had told Harry she had wanted to learn but being a young, high school drop-out, single mother Sasha could never afford piano lessons for her daughter.

However, marriage would mean that Sam would get the biggest significant change in her life: a father. Not a new father, but a father, the only father figure she would have in her life seeing how the man who got her mother pregnant at the tender age of sixteen saw fit to run off, leaving her to raise a child, when she herself was still a child.

Sam knew that she should have been happy watching her mother walk down the aisle, looking like an angel in her elegant but simple, white lace empire waistline wedding dress. 

She should have been happy when they exchanged vows, Harry staring lovingly at his bride and Sasha bursting with love for her soon-to-be husband.

Sam should have been happy when Harry made a special vow to her in front of God, her mother and all their witnesses to love, protect and always be there for her.

She should have been happy, seeing as how this was her mother's happiest day, but...but...she did not feel the slightest joy in her soul.

Something was amiss, she felt it a year ago when she first met Harry and to this day she was still feeling it.

There was something off about Harry, her mother's British husband.

Sam is 9 years old when her mother marries a British man.


Two years. 

Two years later after uprooting them from the only home she had ever known, moving to another country, getting married to a man who did not sit well with Sam's soul because he was keeping something from them.

Two years later Sasha, age twenty-six, is killed instantly when a tractor-trailer T-bones her car and causes it to flip three times before coming to a stop with the help of a steel and concrete wall. She leaves a husband, Harry Hart and a ten years old daughter, Sam Wilson-Hart.

'She died on impact.' The doctors say when Sam and Harry finally gets to the hospital.

That does not help to soothe the open wound. It does not help to calm the screaming in Sam's head that her mother is dead and it is her fault.

If she had not been sick, her mother would not have gone out at twelve o'clock in the afternoon to get ingredients for chicken noodle soup.

If she had not been sick, she would have been at school, where Harry would have collected her at two o'clock as usual and her mother would have gotten home at about six o'clock after her evening classes were done.

If she had not been sick, Sam would not have had to stand beside Harry on a cloudless, sunny day watching as her mother's casket was lowered into the ground.

When the first shovel of dirt hit the casket Sam flinched violently.

"Sam?" of course Harry would notice, nothing got by him.

Sam looked up at the clear blue sky and squinted when the glare of the sun caught her eyes. It was as if the perfect weather was mocking Sam's pain.

"Why is the sun shining?"

"What?" Harry looked up as well, his designer shades protecting his eyes from the harsh glare.

"Why is the sun shining?" Sam repeated herself. "My mother was just covered in dirt." She turned her head to look at the almost covered casket, "my mother is dead, so why is the sun shining?"

With that Sam walked away from the graveside, Harry watching her as she left a perplexed look on his face.

Too bad her mother would never get to see the 'force to be reckoned with' she became when she got older and fought alongside with Captain America and the Black Widow, as Harry had once said two years ago when they had first met.

Sam is 10 years old when her mother is killed in a car accident. 


It had been a year since Sam's mother had died.

A year had passed and both Sam and Harry had learned to exist around each other.

At first Harry was petrified of being a single step-father to a child he barely knew but soon he found his footing. Sam on the other hand was doing her damned hardest to keep him at arm’s length.

It was Christmas Eve; it would be their second Christmas without Sasha and both widower and orphan were feeling the presence of her loss.

Harry had taken off a few days from work so that he could be home with Sam during her Christmas break, but the child had yet to utter two words to him of her own accord. He was currently in the kitchen making breakfast while listening to a record of Christmas songs and carols. Silent Night had begun playing and he hummed along to the melodious tune, unaware that his step-daughter had awoken upstairs.

Sam woke up and she was in a shit mood. 

She had not slept well and the loss of her mother weighed heavily on her heart this time of year. Christmas had been Sasha's favourite time of year. Sam remembered how every year, as soon as it was December 1st, her mother would play nothing but Christmas carols and songs on their little C.D. player; with Silent Night being played almost repetitively as it was their favourite Christmas tune.

Even when it was nowhere near Christmas, Sasha would sing that song to Sam with her beautiful singing voice anytime she was feeling down or on the nights when Sam was in bed.

The memories of past Christmases hit Sam so hard it was as if she could hear the faint strings of Silent Night. That is when her eyes snapped open and she sat up in bed, tilting her head to the side and holding her breath. There it was, the faint '...mother and child, Holy infant so tender and mild...' 

No.

Sam swung her legs over the side of her bed.

No.

Her bare-feet hit the cold hardwood floor but she felt nothing but hot anger coursing through her veins.

No.

She swung open her bedroom door with such force it was a miracle it did not fall off its hinges.

No.

Sam hurriedly walked down the hallway, to the stairs, her little feet hitting them with a soft thud.

No.

She walked through the kitchen, ignoring Harry and how her sudden furious appearance seemed to have confused him.

"Sam?"

No.

She walked into the living room, straight up to the record player and took the needle off the record, both her and her mother's favourite Christmas tune cutting off in the middle.

"Samantha!" Harry's voice called her by her given name sharply and she turned around slowly to face him. "What has gotten into you? I was listening to that."

"Listen to something else." She replied flatly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Sam was not into it this morning, she was hurting and this man was the reason for her hurt. She marched up to him, her 4'8" frame against his towering  6'1 1/2" height would have looked like a daughter having a playful squabble with her father to an outsider looking in; but this was no 'playful squabble' when Sam opened her mouth.

"I said: listen to something else."

Harry stared down at his step-daughter who looked so much like his dead wife and felt his patience with her attitude starting to slip.

Inhaling deeply before responding so he did not say something to damage their almost non-existent relationship any further, Harry responded to her command.

"Sam, I know that you are hurting-" that was all he got out before Sam cut him off.

"You know shit."

He was taken aback by her tone and language.

"Now, listen here young lady-" but again Sam cut him off.

"You are the reason why I am hurting!" She screamed out. "YOU! If you had never met my mother and married her she would still be alive and I would not be hurting!" Sam's little chest was heaving from her outburst.

Harry's hazel eyes were wide behind his thick rimmed glasses. "Sam, darling how long have you been bottling this up inside of you?"

"I am not your darling!" Sam snapped, pushing pass Harry to walk back into the kitchen.

Harry spun around, his eyes tracking her. "Sam please, talk to me. How can I ease your pain?"

Sam turned on his, her brown eyes alight with fury, her little hands clenched in tight fists at her sides and Harry wondered if she was about to attack him.

"Give me back my mother! Can you do that?!" The hysteria was clear in her voice. "I want my mother! Give her back to me!" It was becoming hard for Sam to breathe, what with her shouting and the fact that she could feel the tears that she could not cry a year ago come bubbling up.

"You took her from me when you first met her and then you kept taking and taking, and now I have nothing!"

Harry watched as his eleven year old step-daughter started having an emotional breakdown that was a long time coming.

"We were fine by ourselves. Yes, at times it was difficult because we were poor, but we were happy and most importantly my mother was still alive!" The last word came out as a wail and Harry's heart broke.

He moved towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, "Sam, please-"

"DO NOT TOUCH ME!"  She screamed and Harry backed off. "I want my mother!" The first of many tears began to fall and Harry stood there as Sam fell apart, wailing for her mother. 

She covered her face with her hands and cried. Harry wanting offer her comfort but knew both his words and touch were unwanted.

"I...want...my...mommy." She said between sobs and hiccups. "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy." Sam kept repeating until her energy ran out, her knees buckling and she collapsed on the floor, folding over on herself so that her forehead rested on the cold hardwood floors of the kitchen, unaware that Harry himself and sat down on the floor as well, his back against the kitchen counter as Sam cried out her pain, sorrow and anger.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam had cried out all her tears, her eyes felt dry, her head hurt, her throat felt raw from all the wailing and her chest hurt from how hard the sobs had wracked her small body. She laid there on the floor, her cheek pressed against the floor, her eyes wide with tear tracks staining her face. The room was deathly quiet and if she had looked over at Harry she would have seen tear tracks on his face as well. 

She laid there on the floor until she mustered up the energy to get up on shaky arms and legs.

"I'm going back to bed." That was all she said before climbing the stairs and heading back to her room, leaving Harry alone in the quiet of the kitchen on the eve of her eleventh Christmas.

The next morning, Sam woke up to a deathly quiet house, the morning of her eleventh Christmas. Something on her bedside table caught her eyes and she turned to get a better look. It was a note from Harry.

'Sam, I was called into work for a few hours. However, I will be back by 11 o'clock sharp and we will celebrate Christmas together. Your breakfast is in the oven, please eat and stay out of the gifts. Merry Christmas Sam. - Harry.'

Looking at her Transformers clock, it read 9:30 A.M., so another hour and a half and Harry would be back home. Kicking off her bed-covers, Sam began making her way downstairs, intending on eating her breakfast and watching cartoons until Harry returned.

She had just entered the kitchen, when she stopped dead in her tracks; before her stood four men in masks with high powered weapons and they seemed equally as stunned to see her.

It was a stand still moment in which no one moved; Sam staring at the men and them staring back at her. 

One of the men's finger twitch on his gun and that's all Sam needed before she was high-tailing it out of the kitchen, into living and towards the front door.

"Get her!"

She reached the door and got it open before it was slammed shut by one of the masked men, not bothering to stop and think, she ran around the couch, jumped over the centre table and back into the kitchen where she grabbed the slicing knife Harry had sharpened the day before, right as one of the men grabbed her. She spun around and stabbed him in his leg and managed to land a kick in his crotch.

He dropped to the floor, howling in pain when the other three entered the kitchen while Sam booked it up the stairs and ran down the hall way to seek refuge in her step-father's forbidden office, slamming the office door close and locked it. She stepped back, warily eyeing the door as the men pounded on it and it shook, their voices shouting at her to open the door. Spinning around Sam ran to the desk and grabbed the phone lying on it, she dialled a number she knew by heart and put the phone to her ear listening as it rang, all the while keeping her eyes on the door that stood between her and the men who invaded her home.

When she call finally connected she screamed into the receiver before the person on the other end had a chance to respond.

"Harry! There are men in the house with guns!"

"What?!"

"Harry? What is it? Is Sam alright?" She heard an unidentifiable voice ask in the background and Harry shushed them.

"Sam, where are you?"

"I am in your office. I locked the door, but they are banging on it and it is shaking a lot."

"Bloody hell. Merlin, men are in the house, they are trying to break into my office where Sam has currently locked herself in. I am going there right now. Find out who they are." He said as he ran to the garage to get his car.

Sam yelped when another blow to the door, rattled the bookshelf in the office and a small vase fell off of it, hit the floor and shattered.

"Sam! What was that?!" 

She was terrified, she wanted her mother, and she wanted Harry to be here with her. If he were here he would have gotten rid of the men. He would have protected her, but he was not here with her.

Another blow to the door and it budged and Sam backed herself into a corner, her grip tight on the phone as Harry tried to calm her.

"Sam, Sam, sweetheart it will be alright, I am on my way there, as are a few of my friends, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I am coming for you, do you hear me?"

Sam barely heard a word he said, eyes wide with terror on the door as each blow to it made the lock holding it closed, weaker and weaker.

"Harry," her voice small and weak and it broke his heart, because while Sam may have been aloof, sad, sarcastic and a little shit at difficult at times, she was never weak, "Harry, I think they are going to get in."

"No, darling, they are not going to get in." Harry floored the gas pedal of his car, willing it to go faster. Praying that he was not about to lose his child.

Another blow and the door flew open, banging violently against the wall that the door handle left an imprint in the concrete wall. The men walked in and Sam felt herself go pale.

"Harry, they are in the office."

She heard him swear, but her eyes were on the men as they spread out and created a semi-circle, walking towards her. Menace in their eyes that she could see through slits in their masks. Knowing that it was fight or flight and she decided to go down fighting and tried to make a run for it. The man on the left managed to grab her when she had dodged the one she had stabbed in his leg, making her drop the phone in the process, the call still connected so Harry could hear her screaming.

"Let me go!!" She kicked out and caught the one she had previously injured in his face making him take a step back. 

"Hold the little bitch still!" The one who was injured shouted, holding his nose that she had no doubt broke.

"Your mother is a bitch!" She screamed at him, still fighting against the one who was holding her.

"Get off of me! My dad is going to kill you all!"

"Fucking knock her out man!" The one holding her shouted. "All this noise is going to attract unwanted attention."

The shortest man in the group stepped forward and Sam stared at him, still kicking out hoping to catch him in a sensitive area. He took out a smaller gun, flipped it in his hand and using the butt of it slammed it viciously across her temple and Sam dropped like a sack of potatoes.

The room had gone suddenly silent, since Sam was no longer screaming. It was so quiet that the men could hear Harry's voice screaming over the still connected phone line. The man who had knocked her out, took up the phone and spoke into it.

"Harry Hart, you took someone from us and now we are taking someone from you."

He disconnected the call, not bothering to listen to Harry's threats. 

Just ten minutes after they had left the house with Sam, Harry arrived to the empty house, rage coursing through his veins that someone was brazen enough to enter his home and steal his child. His phone rang and he answered it.

"Who are they Merlin?" He looked at the drops of blood leading up the wrecked office.

"O'Hannigan's men." Merlin replied.

Harry swore, raking a hand through his neat hair messing it up. "Shit."

"How do you want to do this Harry?"

"Get a team ready and send them out. I am going to get my child back." Harry went to the secret weapons compartment in his closet and started arming himself. "And Merlin, make it fast, Sam had put up quite a fight and knowing her she is going to give them a hard time. I want to get to her before one of them puts a bullet between her eyes."

"Right away Harry, Lancelot, Galahad and Percival are on their way."

"I will meet them there." The sound of harry cocking his gun was the finality that the call had ended.

Sam is 11 years old when she is violently kidnapped from her home on Christmas day.


 

The first thing she became aware of was in the intense pain radiating in her skull, the next was the cold hard surface on which she was lying. Sam slowly blinked her eyes open, looking around at her surroundings as her vision slowly cleared, memories of what had happened coming back to her.

She had no idea where she was as she took in the high ceiling, with high walls that had large windows, too high for Sam to reach and climb out of. Through the windows she saw that snow was falling and felt a chill run through her body, not from the cold but the fear at not knowing what was going to happen to her now. Sam tried to move her arms only to discover that they were securely tied behind her back as were her legs. Grunting in pain and exertion, she managed to roll over to a support column and prop herself up against. Just as she started trying to loosen the ropes around her wrists the door to the room she was being held in opened and a man walked.

"Glad to see you're finally awake. I was afraid that I had hit you a bit too hard."

"You did hit me too hard."

The man who looked to be around her mother's age when she was killed, Sam observed as he walked over to her. When he was a few feet from her, he stooped down in front of her, his brown eyes boring into hers.

"You did quite a number on my guy, lil' lady."

If Sam had to describe the look on the guy's face, it would have been 'impressed.'

"Is he still breathing?"

The man's facial expression changed to one of confusion.

"What?"

"Your guy, is he still breathing?" Sam repeated her question.

"Yes." The man answered slowly.

Sam smiled sweetly, "then I must not have done a good enough 'number' if he is still breathing."

The man was about to say something when the door behind him burst open.

"Will! Is the little bitch awake?!"

Sam recognised the voice as the man whom she had injured.

"Who are you calling a 'bitch' you English muffin?"

Will burst out laughing at Sam's insult and the other man looked murderous.

The man she had injured, leaned his hip against another column a few feet away from her and stared at her, malice emanating from him. "Please me that I can kill her now."

At his words Will eyes narrowed dangerously and he turned slowly to look at the other man, "you are not killing an eleven year old girl, Jackson." He growled.

The man called Jack smiled innocently, "fine, if I cannot kill her, then can I at least hurt her a little as payback for my leg and crotch?" That is when he revealed the crowbar he was hiding behind his back and Sam's eyes widen at the thought of him using that on her.

"Fuck off Jackson."

"Come on, let me at least break one of her knee caps." He twirled the crowbar between his fingers, his devilish blue eyes glinting with untold hatred as he stared her down.

"Let me repeat myself: you are not hurting an eleven year old girl." Will growled at Jackson who still had the crowbar in his hand, dead set on breaking Sam's knee. 

"I wasn't aware that Hart had a child." One of the other two men commented as they walked in.

"A very beautiful child." The other man commented and the look he gave Sam raised the hair on her skin. Apparently his look was not lost on the other men in the room.

“Both you," Will pointed at the man who had commented on Sam being beautiful, “and Jackson are to go nowhere near her. Do you both understand me?"

"Oh, come on Will, don't be such a killjoy. It's not as if I am going to hurt her." The man took a step towards Sam and Will stepped in between them.

"I said: do you understand me?" He growled.

The two men rolled their eyes. "Yes." Was the unison reply.

"I have to use the bathroom." Sam spoke up and all four men turned to look at her.

"I will take her." The Asian looking man volunteered. He walked over to Sam and crouched down in front of her, "you try anything funny and I will let Jackson do what he wants to you. Do you hear me?"

Sam knew that he was not saying that just to keep her in line, he truly meant it and she nodded.

"Good girl."

"Hey, what about me?" The man who kept looking at Sam with something impure shining in his eyes.

Sam barely had time to blink before the Asian man had a gun pointed at his crotch, "Owen, I am only going to say this once: keep your fucking hands off of her or I will castrate you. Painfully."

Owen held up his hands and backed away, "you always take the fun out of everything Kirigi."

"Little girl, you are so fucking lucky." Jackson sneered and threw the crowbar at her, it missed her face by a few inches and hit the concrete column, debris flying from it and Sam was shocked, no, she was terrified. 

"Hey, you ok?" The man named Kirigi knelt back down in front of her, but she could not speak, she was terrified. She wanted her mother. She wanted Harry. He said that he was coming for her and she hoped that was true.

"Let's get these ropes off you and get you to the loo."

Sam kept quiet as Kirigi cut the ropes from around her wrists and ankles. Her mind was racing a mile a minute when all of a sudden her eyes zeroed in on the vicious looking knife in his hands. The thing about Sam is that she had grown up on the rough streets of New York. No matter how much her mother tried to shield her, she saw and heard things that no child should have heard.

Seeing that knife now reminded her of the time when she had overheard two gangbangers talking about their kills. One of them had said he had sliced a guy's throat from ear to ear and he instantly bled out, the guy had no idea what had happened before he hit the ground. A plan began to formulate in Sam's mind. She may have been only eleven years old, but she had an extremely high I.Q. and she was born and bred on the mean streets of New York, if you wanted something you had to take it and she wanted her freedom really, really bad and she was going to take it come hell or high water.

Kirigi gripped her arm as he escorted her out of the room, down two hallways, down a flight of stairs, across a large open space, down another hallway until they arrived at a small but clean restroom. 

"You have five minutes. I will be coming in, even if you are not finished by then." He closed the door.

She spun around in a circle, looking for something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing, not even a window. There was only the toilet, sink and a mirror. Sam instantly spun around, her eyes landing on the mirror. She walked over to the sink and climbed up on it, while balancing, she gingerly removed the mirror; it was a lot heavier than it looked and quickly got down off the sink and placed the mirror on the floor.

Looking down at it, she saw her reflection staring back at her, grim determination in her eyes. Taking off her sleep shirt, she laid it over the mirror and as gently and quietly as she could she broke the glass. Once the task was done she put on back her top and  carefully took up one of the larger pieces that she could use as a weapon, that she used to cut off a piece of her shirt and wrapped it around the broad end of her makeshift weapon so that it would not cut her.

Next she lifted the mirror as high as she could and prayed that the plan in her head, would play out properly or else she would be dead. The sound of the mirror falling to the ground and the glass shattering was deafening in the small enclosed space and Sam let loose an equally loud cry.

The door slammed open and Kirigi rushed in.

"What the fuck happened?!" He looked from her to the mirror back to her to see her clutching her arm. "Shit!" He was by her side in an instant, checking to see where she was hurt when the next thing he knew was something warm spilling down the front of his shirt and he was having difficulty breathing. He brought his hands up to his neck, his eyes wide when he saw the shard of glass in Sam's hand, his blood staining the sharp end of it.

Sam had acted quickly when Kirigi had carelessly gotten close to her and jammed the large piece of broken glass into the man's neck, watching as the blood spurted out between his fingers and the gurgling sound he made as he fell to the floor.

Sam is 11 years old when she first kills someone (in self-defence).


 

She stood there for a few seconds, trying to process what she had done, when she spied his knife and knowing she had to get out of there before the others came, she grabbed the knife, ran out of the restroom making sure to close the door behind her. Heedless of the blood staining her clothes and hands, Sam ran back the way Kirigi had taken her, running out into the large open space hoping to find a door when she almost collided with Owen.

He looked shocked by her appearance.

"What the fuck?!" He then saw the knife in her hands, "the kid is loose!" He managed to scream out before Sam got a chance to stab him in the only place she could reach to do enough damage, his crotch. He howled in pain and dropped to his knees, Sam seeing her chance grabbed him by his hair and dragged when the sharp blade of the knife across his throat from ear to ear.

He fell dead too, just like Kirigi and Sam continued running until she heard a bang and some of the concrete in front of her flew up like a small landmine went off. She stopped in her tracks and looked up at the stairwell, there was Jackson, his gun pointed at her with deadly aim and Sam knew the first shot was just a warning.

"Make another move and I will gladly put a bullet between your eyes." He promised as he slowly made his way down the stairs. "I don't know why we did not just kill you and left your body for you father to find, it would have been whole lot simpler."

"Actually it would have been a whole lot simpler if you had just stayed away from me and my daughter." A new voice said and Sam recognised it as Harry's.

Jackson spun around to find where the voice was coming from when Sam was suddenly grabbed, hoisted over someone's shoulder as said person hauled ass across the room and seek cover behind a wall.

"I have the package!" The person, a young man shouted into an ear piece and for the next ten minutes there was nothing but guns going off as Will and Jackson had a shootout with Harry and whoever else he had brought along with him to rescue her.

The fire fight died down and a ringing silence that settled among them.

"All clear!" A female voice called out. 

The young man who had a loose grip on Sam's arm turned around and picked her up. 

"It's a bit messy out there and I do not want you cutting up your feet." He explained and winked at her before walking out from behind the wall and out into the wide open space.

All around them were bullet casings, there was concrete debris littering the floor from walls and columns that got shot up.

"Sam!"

Her head snapped up from where she was looking at the mess on the floor and saw Harry striding towards them.

"Daddy!" The word was out of her mouth and she was on the floor running towards him before her brain could process any of her actions.

He scooped her up and wrapped his arms tightly around her; her arms equally tight around his neck. She buried her face in his neck and held on for dear life. Sam was aware that Harry was saying something to her, but she could not hear over the frantic beating of her heart at being rescued.

The emotional, mental and physical turmoil she went through from the moment she had stepped foot into that kitchen, to a few minutes ago boiled over and she began wailing on Harry's shoulder and he squeezed his arms around her tighter. Running his hand over her hair, trying to calm her.

"Harry." The young man who had grabbed her called his attention. "There are two more bodies up here, their necks sliced open."

"I guess that's where all the blood came from." The young lady who was with them commented.

"Sam." No response. "Sam, darling can you tell me what happened?"

Sam reluctantly loosened her hold around his neck and turned her head to look at him.

"I am tired Harry. I want to go home." Her eyes were red and tears were still streaming down her face, but she was no longer bawling.

Harry nodded his head, knowing that he could question her later once she was cleaned up and rested.

"Let's get you home then."

Sam replaced her head on his shoulder, her face turned into his neck so that she did not have to look at anyone else. He said that he was coming to get her and he did.

Sam is 11 years old and for the first that since Harry became her step-father she hugs him, while she's covered in the blood of the men who she killed.

Harry did not take her home; instead he took her to some mansion where she was given a room and fresh clothes to change into which was a task considering she would not release her hold on Harry (something Roxy, Eggsy, Charlie and Merlin found extremely hilarious) and when she did, Sam demanded that he sit on the toilet seat while she took a shower, not caring that he himself needed to change thanks to the blood transferring from her clothes to his once pristine suit.

Once she was clean, Harry sat her on the grand bed with a fish sandwich to eat while he got cleaned up. When he exited the bathroom in a new suit sans his jacket Sam saw the guns in his shoulder holster.

"I knew you were keeping something from us."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her statement.

"I beg your pardon."

Sam rolled her eyes and crawled up the bed towards the massive piles of pillows and grabbed one that was almost as big as her and wrapped her arms around it. Harry knew that if the pillow was alive it would be turning blue from a lack of oxygen at how tight Sam was holding it.

"Me and mommy, I knew you were keeping something from us the moment I met you."

"And here I thought you just hated me because I took your mother away from you." Harry sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Well that too, but..." she trailed off, her eyes flickering over Harry, never staying in one place to give him an idea of what exactly she was looking at.

"But...?" He prompted.

"You just seemed too good to be true. You were too shiny?"

"Shiny?" Harry deadpanned.

Sam shrugged her shoulder and settled down further into the mass of pillows. "That is the only way I can describe it."

Harry nodded his head as he contemplated her words.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me now what happened? To the men in the warehouse, who killed them?"

Sam went quiet, staring at nothing, seemingly a thousand miles away.

"Sam? Hey, Sam, darling come back to me." Harry snapped his fingers in front of her face and she looked at him in a daze. "Whose blood was on you sweetheart?"

"I killed them."

Harry knew it was a possibility that Sam has somehow killed them, but hearing her admit it was something else.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

"I just want to know how an eleven year old girl got the drop on two grown ass men."

She began fiddling with the pillow in her hands "I, umm...I took a piece of broken mirror and sliced open the throat of the man who took me to the restroom and then I took his knife and stabbed the other guy, who he told not to touch me or he would castrate him, in his crotch and when he dropped I sliced his throat open too." 

"Sam..." Harry was speechless.

"Why did they take me?"

Harry sighed, he laid down on his side on the bed, his hand propping up his head. He felt emotionally and mentally drained. The fear that coursed through him at the thought of losing Sam was something he had never felt before.

"They came looking for me, but they kidnapped you instead in order to get back at me. I took down their boss three years ago, before I met your mother."

"So it's your fault." Sam smiled mirthlessly. "Of course it is, everything is your fault." She muttered the last part under her breath. This killer was the reason as to why she was kidnapped.

'This killer came to rescue her' a small part of her mind whispered to her as she tried to set the pillow she was hugging on fire with her glare.

"I did not hear you, what was that last part?"

Sam stared him down, something in her eyes that let him know this young girl was not someone to be trifled with if her fight when she was being kidnapped was anything to go by or the fact that she was able to kill two of her kidnappers.

"I said it's your fault. It is your fault that my mother is dead-"

"I am well aware you think that." Harry dryly interjected.

"-and it is your fault that I was kidnapped on Christmas!"

"Are we back to this? Considering you called me 'daddy,' when I found you." 

Sam blushed, remembering what she had referred to him as soon as her eyes had landed on him after that traumatic experience.

"It was a slip of the tongue." She defended.

"You would not let me go, even to get cleaned up." Harry looked smug.

"I really hate you right now." Sam mumbled but it was weak. She seemed to have remembered something because she sat up ram-rod straight, her eyes wide, "I did not even get to watch cartoons or open my presents and Christmas will soon be over!"

The room fell silent after Sam's shout tapered off. 

Harry glanced at his watch and indeed Sam was right; only six minutes were left of December 25th "I am sincerely sorry that you had to go through all that and miss Christmas. I was really looking forward to celebrating it with you."

Sam sniffled as tears ran down her face again, "I know." Was the quiet response. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"Sam," Harry stretched out his hand along the bed, turning it over so that his pal faced up, "two years ago I made a promise to always love, protect and be there for you. Today I upheld my vow and I will continue to do so for as long as I draw breath."

Sam stared at his upturned palm.

"I give you my word as a gentleman, your father and as a Kingsman Agent."

Her eyes met his and she saw the promise in them. She pushed the pillow aside and slowly reached across the bed until her could join hands with him and her smaller hand was engulfed by his much larger one.

That's how they spent the last few minutes of Sam's eleventh Christmas; lying down on the bed, hands joined as the quiet enveloped them and Sam started falling asleep, the day's events beginning to catch up with her. Just as Harry was about to suggest that she go to bed, Sam jolted awake and asked a very important question.

"What the hell is a 'Kingsman agent’?”

Sam is 11 years old when she finds out her step-father is an agent for Kingsman.

 

 

The End.

Chapter Text

It had been a hot Friday in July and Sam was looking forward to spending the weekend doing nothing in the comfort of her A.C. home. Seeing that Steve and Bucky were somewhere in Italy having a romantic getaway, she would have the house to herself and she smiled at the plan of turning the A.C. on the coldest setting as possible, without worry that she was causing her friends any discomfort.

Night had fallen when Sam finally finished her last case file of back logged work. She said good night to the night guard, walking to the parking lot where she got into her car (a gift from Bucky for wrecking her other car), soon she was speeding down the deserted road, A.C. on full blast when she heard a funny sound coming from the car and the steering wheel began to rattle in her hands. 

Bringing the car to a stop, Sam got out of it and walked around it, looking to see if something had gotten caught on it and was being dragged. Seeing nothing, she got down on her hands and knees, grumbling that her dress was getting dirty to look under the car. There was nothing there either. Sam having no idea as to what was creating the sound, decided to drive slower for the rest of her journey home, resigning herself to calling Tony and asking if he could recommend the best mechanic (a part from himself) in D.C. to take her car to.

She got back into the car and drove off, for five minutes it was blissfully quiet and then the sound started up again. It sounded as if the car had a flat tire, but she had checked them and they were all in good condition. The sound got louder and louder and right when Sam was getting ready to pull back over on the side of the road, there was a loud pop, the car swung to the left and Sam slammed her foot down on the brakes. 

When her heart had finally calmed down, she exited the vehicle again and walked around it, only to discover that the left front axle had broken complete and the wheel was at an odd angle.

"Fuck my life." She swore and raked her fingers through her sweaty hair. Knowing that she had no other option, she called AAA and was informed that they would be at her location in an hour. She next called Tony to let him know what had happened, the man might have lived in New York, but his influence was far reaching and he said that a car would be there to collect her in an hour as well.

Having nothing else to do and with her car being hot and making that damn sound anytime she turned on the A.C., she took a seat on the trunk of her car and settled down to play fruit ninja on her phone.

Approximately ten minutes later a dark tinted Range Rover came driving down the road, Sam kept her head down, but her eyes and ears tracked the vehicle and she braced herself when it came to a stop beside her. Too close to her car. Her senses were on high alert and for good reason.

Sam's eyes widened when she saw just who was when in the Range Rover when the window rolled down.

"Need some help?" Brock's voice was dark as his intentions.

Sam did not get far before both he and Jack were on her.

Two Hours Earlier

"And you are sure that she won't get hurt from this?"

Jack levelled him with a look, "I grew up around car maniacs. Something as simple as sabotaging her axle will not kill her. It will just make a loud, frightening sound when it finally breaks and she will be left stranded. You will then have your opportunity of grabbing her and taking her wherever you want."

"Two long fucking years and I will soon have her." Brock could already feel her warm, soft, smooth skin under his fingers and the taste of her on his tongue.

Present Time

As soon as Sam's brain registered who was in the vehicle she was off the trunk, and on the other side of her car, the passenger side door open, reaching for the gun she carried in her handbag, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Brock launch himself over the top of her car. Her fingers grasped the grip of her gun when she felt a presence behind her and she jumped back in time for the door to miss slamming on her arm and possibly breaking it thanks to Jack fiercely kicking it closed.

Sam backed up, her gun pointed at them as they got in between her, the cars and the road. 

"It's been a long time Sammy girl." Brock said, his predator eyes raking up and down her form, taking in her thin strap, blue and white summer dress.

"I thought you were dead." Her eyes were on Brock and she could feel the hysteria wanting to set in, but shook it off. Now was not the time, she had to survive this and get away from these two men. "Your body was found buried beneath the Triskelion, what the fuck?"

Brock's smile was smug, "you would surprise at the amount of times my death has been faked."

He took another step towards her and Sam fired off a warning shot close to his foot.

"Another step and the next bullet goes between your eyes." 

"Oh, you should not have done that Sam."

Sam did not know someone as large as Jack could move so fast, the only thing that made her aware that he had just kicked her gun out of her hand was the searing pain in her wrist and the fact that her only weapon went flying to her far right. That's how the fight started.

For the next five minutes, Sam fought against two men bigger than her. Her dress was dirty and torn, her body felt bruised from all the hits and kicks she had not been able to dodge or block. There was a cut on her cheek and her lips was split.

Brock and Jack looked no better. 

Jack had two broken fingers and Sam had knocked out one of his tooth. Brock would be sporting a vicious black-eye in a few hours and he had deep scratches on his left cheek, courtesy of Sam's fingernails.

"You should have left me alone." Sam growled, her eyes flitting between the two men who were circling her, like sharks smelling blood in the water.

"And you should have come with me the first time I told you to. I would not have had to mess with your car if you just obeyed me."

"Obeyed?" Sam sneered, "go and drop dead Brock and stay dead this time."

"No, can do Sam. I want you and I am going to have you."

"And I have no say in this?"

"You do actually, you can decide whether you will come willingly or if I am going to have to beat you into submission, bound and gag your ass."

Sam was staring at the epitome of insanity. She had no idea what brought about his obsession with her and frankly she did not want to know.

"I choose shooting you and your friend between your eyes and not losing any sleep over it!" Sam dove to the side, grabbing at her gun that she had gotten closer and closer to over the course of the fight, however, much to her horror, her fingers did not even brush the weapon before strong arms grabbed her from behind and dragged her up roughly so that her back was plastered to a strong chest.

"Get the fuck away from me you crazy assholes!" She kicked out, Brock dodged the kicks and Jack tightened his grip on her arms that he had wrenched almost painfully behind her back.

Brock then moved in close enough that she could feel his breathe on her face. And she went dead still when she found herself staring down the dark barrel of an equally dark gun with the devil himself standing on the other side of said gun.

"Two years." He cocked his gun and shoved it hard into Sam's temple, using his body to push her harder into Jack's body who had an iron grip around her wrists. 

"Two years, I waited." He tucked his gun in the waist of his pants by the small of his back and took out a syringe filled with some kind of clear liquid which made Sam's eyes widened and she started thrashing, hoping to throw him off of her or loosen Jack’s grip on her.

"Don't you dare Brock." Sam's eyes never left the syringe, "don't you dare."

"Two years, I followed you and Rogers from state to state, country to country, continent to continent, until finally," he uncapped the needle using his teeth and spat out the cover somewhere on the dark road. "Finally I got you alone." Brock stuck the needle into her arm and released the liquid poison into her veins.

Sam immediately began to feel sleepy and could not keep her eyes open, for a coherent sentence or even hold herself up anymore. The last thing she heard before the darkness overtook her was Brock saying.

"You should have come with me willingly the first time we fought two years ago."


Sam felt as if she was swimming in syrup. Her limbs felt heavy and she was struggling to open her eyes. She could hear the sound of something that sounded like and engine only louder and a bit muffled, but she had no idea if that was from the syrupy feeling.

When her eyes finally opened, she had to blink to clear the fog. Wherever she was the lights were dimmed and she was lying on something soft. She tried sitting up only to feel someone gently pushing her to remain lying down.

"Where am I?" She tried to ask, not sure if her words were comprehensible considering her tongue felt heavy as fuck.

"Shhh." 

That was a man's voice and alarm bells started sounding in her head and she tried sitting up again.

"No, whe-where am I?"

"Just relax, we will be there soon."

Sam had no idea who the man was or where 'there' is but she wanted out and tried getting up a third time, that is when she felt a stinging sensation in her arm and the darkness came for her again.


The next time Sam awoke, she was still lying on something soft, but this time, wherever she was bright as hell. Her eyes slammed shut against the brightness and she had to slowly blink her eyes open. When they were fully open and her vision no longer blurry, she saw that she was in a bedroom. 

Once her awareness kicked in she immediately sat upright on a bed that was not hers in a room that was definitely not hers.

"Finally awake I see."

Sam turned and saw the stuff of nightmares standing by the bedroom door, looking too much like a human being in grey loose, soft looking sleep pants and a black t-shirt, with bare-feet. 

"I am assuming that since I am looking at evil incarnate that last night was in fact not a dream." Sam dropped her rubbed her face with her hands. "Fucking fantastic."

Brock had yet to saying anything more. He stood there looking at the fierce beauty before him, she may hate him and want to kill him, but that is not going to stop him from taking what he wants.

As if hearing his thoughts Sam held her head up, her eyes alight with hate, "what the fuck do you want with me? Are you trying to get to Steve? Bucky?"

Brock snorted, "fuck Rogers and that Popsicle."

"Watch your mouth asshole." 

"I want you because I want you. No, ulterior motive."

Sam tilted her head, studying him as if she could decipher what the hell was going on in that brain of his.

"So, you basically sabotaged my car, attacked me, drugged me and carried me-" Sam looked around the room, "where the fuck am I?"

"Isle of Islay."

There was a beat of silence as Sam processed what he had just said. The name sounded familiar, it was as if it were smoke and Sam could not pin down how she knew it.

"Best known for its peaty, smokey whiskies." Brock commented as if he were a fucking travel guide book.

It was as if a light bulb went off in Sam's head. "Scotland?!  You brought me all the way to fucking Scotland?!"

Brock shrugged as if it were no big deal to have brought her all the way to Scotland. 

"Why Scotland of all places?" 

"Where do you think the name 'Rumlow' comes from?"

Sam stared at him.

"No one knows that my grandparents are from Scotland; figured it would be the best place to take you."

"I am only going to tell you one last time Brock, let me go."

"No."

Sam was reaching the end of her rope, what the fuck was going through that crazy head of his?

"This has gone beyond fucked up, into you should be in a white jacket in a padded room. And on that note, I am leaving this place and your crazy ass." Sam threw back the covers only to stare down at her legs in horror. There was a shackle with a thick chain around her left ankle and her eyes trailed along the chain that disappeared over the edge of the bed to see that it was anchored to the floor.

"You were saying?" Brock looked at her like a cat that well and truly had his canary trapped.

Sam looked up at him, pure horror shining in her eyes and Brock felt his cock twitch at the sight of her looking lost and vulnerable.

"What the fuck?" She jumped off the bed and grabbed the chain, pulling as hard as she could but there was no give, not in the chain or the bolts anchoring it to the floor. "You fucking psychopath!"

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" 

Sam wanted to tear his fucking face off.

"Do you really think you can keep me? That no one will notice that I am missing and come looking for me? I am best friends with Captain America and The Winter Soldier, two of the most stubborn and vindictive assholes in the world, they will search every corner of this godforsaken planet until they find me and when they do, they will tear you a part mercilessly!"

Brock's smirk was downright evil and something about it made a shiver of fear run down Sam's spine.

"Answer me this Sam, why would they look for a dead person?"

"Wha-what the fuck are you on about?"

"Two years." Brock walked further into the room and since he entered the room, Sam saw the tablet he had in his hands. He tapped on it for a few seconds before holding it out to her. Sam looked at the tablet before her and Brock shook it impatiently, "take the fucking tablet Wilson."

She did as told and when she looked at the screen, it took her a few seconds to process just what it was she was looking at.

"UNITED STATES AIR FORCE VETERAN, SAMANTHA TERESA WILSON, FOUND MURDERED." 

That is what the headline of the daily Washington, D.C. Post read. 

Even with the words glaring at her in black and white, Sam was still unable to make heads or tails of what it was she was seeing.

Her grip in the tablet was that strong that the screen cracked a little. "What is this?" She would feel the hysteria building up in her.

"Your death of course." He said it so nonchalantly and Sam felt something snap in her.

"YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" She screamed and lunged at him, only for the shackle around her ankle to pull taut, making her fall to the floor. When she looked up at him he was only a few feet from her but she could not reach him.

"I probably should have mentioned this from before, but the chain only grants you so much freedom and no more. Once I believe that you have gained at least a small amount of my trust to not try and escape, maim or kill me, I will allow you to roam around the house and when you have earned it, I will even allow you to go outside."

"I am not a fucking pet!" 

Brock narrowly dodged the tablet she threw at him. It hit the wall and broke a part.

"That was a gift from my cousin, Sam and that is in no way earning you my trust."

"You and your trust can go to hell!" Sam was still on the ground, pulling at the chain anchored to the ground as if it would break at any moment. "How did you do that?! How were you able to fake my death?!"

"I had two years to plan everything down to the 'T' Sam, I was not going to allow you to slip through my fingers again."

"Fuck you Brock."

"Well if you want to move that fast," he walked closer to her, stripping off his shirt and Sam could feel the bile rising in her throat, "I was going to wait until you felt better and had some food in your stomach, but..." he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, his predator eyes on Sam.

She let go of the chain and fell backwards on her hands, closing her eyes, she breathed in and out until the hysterical screaming in her head calmed down.

"Just tell me how you did it Brock? How did you manage to convince my friends and family that I was 'murdered’?”

"I told you Sam, I had two years to plan everything. You think sabotaging your car was just a way of getting to you?"

"It wasn't?" Sam sarcastically asked.

"That was just the beginning of your murder."

Sam shuddered at that; if he was able to fake her murder, what was to stop him from really killing her?

"I kept tabs on you Sam, while you were globe-trotting and when you came back; I needed to be able to get you alone and once your roommates left town, it became the perfect opportunity to snatch you up."

"You said that I was 'murdered.'" Sam picked herself up and sat back down on the bed. "If I were murdered, don't you think someone is going to investigate, put two and two together and see that things just do not add up?" She hoped that he had slipped up somewhere in his two years of planning, because she had no idea how she was getting out of this one.

"Trust me when I say that this is an open and close case."

"Humour me; tell me how you planned my 'murder.'"

Brock stared her down and she stared right back at him, not backing down.

Sighing, Brock walked to the love seat that was positioned right under the window that looking closely at it now, Sam realised that there were bars on the outside of it, preventing her from escaping that way.

"Jack and I did not just physically attack you for the hell of it, we needed the evidence surrounding your vehicle to show signs of a struggle. Once we knocked you out, we drew a sufficient amount of blood from your arm in order to stage a perfect crime scene."

Sam looked down at her left arm and right there on the inside of her elbow was a small band aid, no doubt protecting a small pinprick of a hole where they had stolen her blood to fake her murder.

"The article said I was found 'murdered' which poor soul did you kill to use as a stand in for me?"

"I have a friend who is a medical examiner, owed me a favour."

Sam felt sicker and sicker with each word coming from the monster sitting across from her, but she needed to know what he did so that she could at least have some idea of his thinking process in order to escape him.

"My friends and family are going to take one look at that body double and know that it is not me."

"The body was found burnt beyond recognition, so dental records had to be used and guess what," the smile on Brock's face was again like that of a fucking cat who got his canary, "they came back as a positive I.D. for one Samantha Teresa Wilson."

"You still have not said how this is an 'open and close' case. Who did you pin my murder on?"

"Two former HYDRA agents. They knew who you were and their homes were searched, with the discovery of a lot of damning evidence on them following you, having your work schedule, as well as pictures of you at your home, on your morning run, at work, grocery shopping, the blueprints to your home and the kicker is they were both found dead, brains blown out with a note saying they knew they would not be safe with having killed an Avenger. So there you have it, your perfect murder."

Sam did not know what to say to all that was just revealed to her, so she decided to go with one thing she knew was true.

"You are one sick puppy Rumlow."

"Bark, bark." His smile was sharp.

"I hope that you are aware that I am not going to take this lying down. I am not going to just accept this for what it is; I am going to escape and return home to my friends and family." Sam vowed. "You have no idea what you have just started Brock."

Brock smirked and got up from his seat, and approached the bed, but remained far enough so that Sam could not attack him.

"You can make your life here hard or easy for yourself Sam. Just show me that you can behave and you will have as much freedom as you want within reason."

"When is the last time you took your crazy meds? I mean do you hear what is coming out of your mouth?" Sam was tired from all the mental and emotional swings she was going through right now. "You kidnap me, take me to another country, fake my murder causing my friends and family terrible grief and you say that I should 'behave.' Well let me tell you something Rumlow, well behaved women rarely make history and I can tell you from now that I have no intentions of behaving." 

The fire in her eyes showed her grim determination and something in Brock snapped.

Before she knew what had happened, Sam was sprawled on her back, on the bed with Brock's weight pinning her down.

"What the- get the fuck off of me!"

Brock ignored her screams and grabbed the chain, using it to wrap around her wrists tightly as he snarled in her face. "And I want you to know that I do not have any problems with beating you into submission. I will break you Sam Wilson. I will continuously force myself on you until the fight leaves you and you can only lie there and take it or until you welcome it."

Sam stared at him in horror, bile rising to her throat.

He stroked her face with his hand. It was gently like a lover's caress and Sam wanted to bite his fingers off.

"I do not want to do that to you." He let go of her wrists and Sam pulled them free of the chain.

Brock eased his weight off of her body and rose to his knees so that he was looking down at her; Sam too the opportunity to get out from underneath him and moved backwards on the bed.

He grabbed the chain and pulled it taut, making sure that Sam could not move back anymore, "I like your fire but I will put it out if I have to." He reached his other hand out and grabbed her unshackled ankle, squeezing it as he continued to speak, "I am the personification of possessiveness. Do you think I am going to allow you to get away from me a third time?" 

Having had enough of his bullshit from the start, Sam kicked out viciously and caught him right in his face. Brock released his hold on her and Sam kicked out again, kicking him off the bed and onto the floor on his back. She was up and off the bed in no time, straddling his waist and started punching him. 

"You. Sick. Psychotic. Prick!"

Brock caught off guard allowed her to get three hits in, before the turned the tables and flipped them over.

"My turn." He grinned down at her, blood on his teeth and dripping from his nose. He backhanded her three times, twice across her right cheek and once across her left cheek. He punch her hard enough to give her a black eye and then he got to his feet where he proceeded to deliver five brutal and ruthless kicks to her vulnerable mid-section. "Had enough?" He asked.

Sam spitting saliva mixed with blood on his barefoot was her answer.

He bent over and grabbed her by her hair.

Sam's hands flew up to his, trying to pry open his hold on her.

"I told you before Sam, I do not want to hurt you. I really don't, but I will if I have to."

"Then let me go." Sam said weakly, her face was on fire and she could not breathe properly, her stomach hurting too much and she knew that she would be sporting some serious bruises in a few hours. 

"Not an option Sam." Brock let go of her hair and Sam collapsed on the floor, the coolness of the tiles offering some comfort to her face. 

"I am going to leave you here to decide whether you are going to make your life from here on out either easy or difficult." Brock started walking away when he remembered something. "Oh and just so you know, I have cameras installed in here, so you do not get any funny ideas such as attempting to take your life as a means of escaping, the windows are barred and all of the furniture is bolted to the floor."

"Do I at least get to use the bathroom?"

"There is one right through that door with all your basic necessities and through that door is a closet with clothes in your size. If there is anything else that you want within reason, just let me know and I will get it for you."

Sam made the mistake of sarcastically laughing. "Wow...you are so accommodating for a psychotic kidnapper."

"I told you that I want you Sam and now that I have you, I intend to make you stay as comfortable as possible. Now we both have to get cleaned up, there is a first aid kit in the bathroom, should you wish to use it and you can do with a few more hours of resting."

"So fucking considerate." Sam rolled over on her back, a feat that was extremely painful, "go and fucking die Brock. Go lay down and die somewhere."

His bare-feet were silent on the floor as he walked back over to her. She kept her eyes closed but felt a dark presence standing over her. 

"I can be a nice guy Sam."

She snorted.

"I can!" He defended himself. "Just ask the people in town."

"No thanks." She coughed and pain shot through her abused body. Even speaking hurt.

"I can take care of you for the rest of your life. Money is not an issue; you will be able to live as comfortable as you want."

She remained silent.

Brock knelt down beside her, stroking her bruised cheek gently and Sam winced, out of fear or pain, she did not know. "I can be a nice guy Sam. I want us to get along.”

She laughed humourlessly at that. “A black woman and a Nazi getting along, isn’t that ironic?” She coughed and her body was wracked with pain from jarring her injuries.

“I am not a Nazi and we can get along. You just need to cooperate with me and I will give you anything you want."

"My freedom." She choked out.

Brock said nothing.

He got up and walked to the bedroom door. 

"Get some rest Sam. I am sorry I roughed you up so much, but there will be consequences if you try and go against me.

Sam remained quiet as he closed the door and that was like a nail in her metaphorical casket. 

The deafening silence that followed the closing of the door was finality enough that this was now her life and Sam closed her eyes, allowing the first of many tear to fall at her current and as far as the eye could see predicament.

Outside the barred windows of her prison, Sam heard the singing of a bird.

 

Caged Bird

By: Maya Angelou

"A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends 

and dips his wing 

in the orange sun rays 

and dares to claim the sky. 

 

But a bird that stalks 

down his narrow cage 

can seldom see through 

his bars of rage 

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied 

so he opens his throat to sing. 

 

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom. 

 

The free bird thinks of another breeze 

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees 

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn 

and he names the sky his own 

 

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing. 

 

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom."

Chapter Text

Brock had never gotten along with his father. He had always been a rebel, where as his father was quiet and just wanted his son to calm down, do well in school, go to college and make the most of his life outside of the small town he was raised in after his mother had died when he was ten years old. That's why as soon as Brock turned eighteen he hightailed it out of the little backwoods town and never looked back.

He had not spoken to his father in twenty years since that day.

That's why when he was sitting in the locker room, unwrapping his hands after a sparring session with Steve Rogers, it came as a shock when his phone rang and he saw the area code and when he answered it to hear the soft calming voice of a female on the other end he knew that nothing good was going to come from the call.

"Good afternoon, am I speaking to Mr. Brock Rumlow?"

"Yes, this is he." His hand was half unwrapped as he clenched the phone wondering if this is the call to inform him that his father had died.

It was indeed the call informing him that his father had in fact died and whole lot more.

"Mr. Rumlow, this is Dr. Althea McTaggarth, I am calling from the St. Anna Maria Hospital."

Brock remembered that hospital all too well, sitting in the hard-plastic chairs in the waiting room, until his father came out to tell him what he had already known at the tender age of ten and again being rushed to the emergency room at the age of sixteen when some punk had stabbed him in the back during a parking lot brawl. He had never seen his father look so scared before in his life, but that did not stop him from finding the asshole who had stabbed him two weeks after he had his stitches taken out and made sure that he would not be able to stab anyone again.

He knew that his father had an inkling of what he did but never said anything further about the matter. Brock had survived and healed and that's all that had mattered.

The doctor's voice brought him back from his thoughts.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that your father died from injuries he sustained in a vehicle collision."

Having a vague idea of what the call was about and having that vague idea confirmed was something else and Brock, even though he had not spoken to his father in over two decades, it was still like a punch to the gut hearing that his only living relative was now dead.

"Um," he cleared his throat, the back of his eyes burning with tears that wanted to come to the forefront but he forced them back. "So, what do you need me to come and identify the body? Make funeral arrangements, because let me tell you I have not seen or spoken to that man in over twenty years. I am sure his friends would know what to do in a situation like this."

There was an inhale of breath on the other end of the call that made Brock sit up straighter.

"Sir, from what you just told me I am going to assume that you did not know."

He clenched the phone harder and heard it creak under the pressure but paid it no mind as he got up from the bench and started pacing the room, not noticing that Steve, Natasha and Jack had entered the room and were watching him.

"Did not know what?" He growled. He knew nothing good was going to come from this call, but what the hell did his father do?

"Mr. Rumlow, your father,” the doctor specified, “his family was with him in the car at the time of the accident."

Brock came to a sudden halt, the world around him going quiet as those two words rang in his ear, 'his family.'

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sir, I think it would be best if you came down here and we had this conversation face to face."

"No, I think not. Let's have it right now."

"Sir -"

"Fucking answer me!" He roared causing Steve to flinch, Jack's eyes to widen and Natasha to raise an eyebrow at a normally cool Brock being anything but that.

There was a resigned sigh on the line before Dr. McTaggarth spoke again.

"Jake Rumlow at the time of the accident was accompanied by his wife Iris and their ten year old daughter, Sam."

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He felt himself falling and then two pairs of strong arms catching him and holding him up. He felt bile raising up in his throat.

"Wi-wife and daughter?" His voice cracked and his mouth felt dry.

"Yes, his wife died instantly on the spot. The dashboard broke and it impaled her chest.  Your father though, he survived the initial crash and was dragged out of the wreck by your sister, Sam." The doctor explained, "However, he had many open wounds that were bleeding profusely and she was unable to stop the bleeding; as a result, he bled out."

Brock dropped his hand from his ear, hearing nothing but white noise mixed with the roaring in his ears. He had no idea what was more shocking, that his father had died or the fact that he had a step-mother and a little ten year old sister that he knew nothing about. He was vaguely aware of Steve and Jack asking him what was wrong, of Natasha standing back watching it all unfold with a trashcan in her hands because Brock knew that he looked like he was about to hurl.

He shakily brought his hand back up, hearing the doctor's rising voice over the line.

"Doc, I will be there by tonight." He ended the call and sat there stunned.

"Brock, for fuck's sake, you are freaking us all out." Jack said, still trying to get through to his friend. "What the fuck happened?"

Brock turned to him, his mind still reeling with all the information he was just given in the last ten minutes.

"I have to go home."

"Home?" The confusion was clear in Jack's voice until a 'light bulb' went off over his head. "You mean back home to Creek Water? The same place you said you would never return to?"

"Yeah." Brock dragged a hand down his face, still not being able to process the fact that his father and his wife were dead, but their daughter, his sister was still alive and waiting for him to come get her. "I have to go back." He tried to get up only for Steve and Jack to push him back down on the bench.

"What happened Brock?" Steve and his ever concerned self-asked. If he ever knew how he was being played, Brock is sure that he would not be so concerned.

"My father died in a car accident." He laughed mirthlessly, "and here's the kicker, apparently he remarried and he and his wife left behind a ten year old daughter."

The room was silent for a minute. 

"You have a sister?" Jack asked, "that's great?" He sounded as unsure as Brock felt.

"Great is not the word I would use from the look of Brock's face." Natasha finally spoke up. "Listen, you need to go to your sister."

Brock rolled his eyes at her. "We do not even know each other. I am just a stranger to her."

"Don't be so sure Brock. You may not have known about her, but I am sure she knew about you."

All three men looked at Natasha.

"I am sure she knew all about the big brother she had out there somewhere and I am sure that she wanted to meet you; probably not under these circumstances, but still she wanted to meet you."

"Natasha's right." Steve said. "Even if you don't know each other, her world just fell apart and more than likely she is scared and lonely. You should go considering that the hospital called you."

"I will drive you, since we can all see that you're in no condition to drive yourself anywhere."

"Thanks Jack."

"No problem."


Brock stared unseeingly out the window as jack drove through his old town. From what he had registered there were changes but not much, there was still the 24/7 diner on the corner of the town's largest intersection, ten blocks from his house. The church had been fixed up, no doubt his father helped with that. He told Jack to stay on the main road. He did not want to drive pass his childhood home just yet.

When they arrived at the hospital, Brock went straight to the nurses' station.

"Hi, I am Brock Rumlow. I received a call that my father and his wife were killed in a car accident."

"Mr. Rumlow?" A voice called from behind and both men turned to see a tall, dark skinned doctor looking at them solemnly. "I am Dr. McTaggarth, I called you." She reached out her hand that Brock shook it.

"Please, call me Brock."

"Ok, Brock, will you and your friend come this way."

Brock walked beside Dr. McTaggarth as she spoke, Jack trailing behind them.

"Your sister, Sam, has a few bumps and bruises, her major injuries were a dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist. She received the injuries to the same arm, both have been set and she is now recuperating." Dr. McTaggarth trailed off.

"But?" Brock prompted, knowing there was a 'but' in there somewhere.

"But, she refuses to eat."

"What do you mean refuses to?"

"I mean she will not eat anything. Not the hospital food, we had a burger brought over from the diner she would not even look at she. She won't even eat any candy or chocolate. And as a result, she has lost six pounds in two days. That is not natural or healthy for a girl her age, size or the fact that she just went through some severe trauma."

"What ten year old kid refuses candy?" Jack asked.

"A kid who is grieving." Brock said, remembering how he could barely eat after his own mother had died. He could not imagine what the toll of losing both parents at the same time could do to a person.

Dr. McTaggarth stopped by an ajar door, "well she's right in here. And I should also inform you, since arriving she has not spoken to anyone. Hopefully she speaks to you. If you have any further questions, you can just ask one of the nurses to page me."

"Thank you, doctor." 

She walked off leaving the two men outside the door.

"So, ready to meet the sister you knew nothing about?"

Brock took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's do this." He walked right into the room, the curtains were open letting in the sunlight and giving the room a light airy feel, there was a t.v. mounted on the wall in corner that was off. Brock rounded the privacy curtain and came to sudden stop almost causing Jack to run into him.

"Why'd you suddenly stop like that man?" He asked before looking over Brock's shoulder at the little girl sitting on the hospital bed.

At the little black girl sitting on the hospital bed.

"Shit."

Brock elbowed him, "do not curse in front of children."

There on the hospital bed, a little black girl sat, looking at the two men before her with dead eyes. Her mocha coloured skin was covered in cuts and bruises, her wrist was in a blue cast (Brock's favourite colour) and her entire arm was in a sling, there was nasal cannula around her face as well.

Sam's eyes slowly moved over the two men, stopping on Brock who stared back.

"Well she has your eyes." Jack said to break the tension that was steadily mounting in the room. and Brock had to agree, they had the same light green eyes, a trait that ran in his family from his father's side.

"Um, hi, I am Brock, Jake's son and I guess your brother." He trailed off lamely.

"And I am Jack." Jack introduced himself, since it seemed as if Brock forgot about him.

Sam remained quiet, still staring at Brock, something that was beginning to unnerve him.

Jack turned to Brock and whispered, "what are you going to do about this Brock? I do not think Pierce would take kindly to one of his best agents having a black little sister."

Brock dragged a hand down his face, releasing a huge sigh. "What choice do I really have?"

Suddenly a little voice piped up.

"You need to identify the bodies."

Both men's eyes snapped to Sam, who was staring up at them with the saddest pair of eyes Brock had ever seen.

"How are you feeling?" Brock asked, walking closer to the bed.

Sam sniffled and laid down, pulling the blankets up to her chin.  Brock sat in the chair by the bedside and leaned forward so that he could look at her eyes, even if she not looking at him.

"They said that I couldn't do it because, I am too young." She sniffled again, this time tears escaped her eyes.

"Hey, it's ok," Brock grabbed some tissues from the box on the bedside table and wiped her tears, "you're going to be ok." That was the wrong thing to say as Sam's face crumbled and she began sobbing quietly, causing the two grown ass men in the room to quietly freak out.

Brock spun around to look at Jack, eyes wide with terror. Jack violently motioned for him to do something about the crying child. Having no idea of what to do to get her to calm down, much less to stop crying, Brock began stroking the dark unruly curls on top of her head.

"Sam, the thing is, up to a few hours ago I had no idea that I had a little sister. So, imagine my shock when I am called, informed that my father along with his wife, who I also knew nothing about were killed in a car accident leaving behind a daughter."

Sam pulled the cover over her head and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Nice going Brock."

"Oh, fuck you!" He hissed at Jack. He turned back to Sam, rubbing her head through the covers, "I am still trying to process everything, so please try and understand that I am completely out of my depth here. I have never even had a gold fish or a house plant, so I have no idea what I am supposed to do."

Sam lowered the covers so that only the top of her head and eyes peeked out and looked at him from beneath her eyelashes, Brock smiled at her. 

"There are those beautiful green eyes that we have the same of."

He had the passing thought that she would be breaking hearts when she got older and that he would break anyone who tried to break hers. That last thought he would have to think on, having no idea where it suddenly came from.

"Your doctor told me that you're not eating."

"I knew about you." Sam hastily changed the subject, stopping Brock in his tracks. She leaned over the side of the bed to stretch towards the bedside table, wincing when she aggravated her injuries.

"Hey, careful." Brock reached out a hand to steady her when she sat back up after retrieving whatever it was she wanted.

"Here." She held out her closed fist and Brock held out his open hand under it, curious as to what she was giving him.

His eyes widen in shock when she moved her hand and saw the gold chain that belonged to his mother. He thought he had lost it when he left home but apparently not.

"I found it when daddy and I were remodelling your room for me. He told me to keep it safe for you; that you would come back for it."

He looked at Sam and held out the chain to her, "how about you hang on to it for me?"

Sam took back the chain and slipped two gold wedding bands - Brock had no idea she was holding those- on it, hanging it around her neck when she was finished. Something in Brock warmed at the sight of seeing her with his mother's chain with his father's and her mother's wedding rings hanging around her neck.

"Now do you want to tell me why you have not been eating."

"Funeral arrangements need to be made."

Brock sat back in the chair, "shi-oot." He quickly corrected, "I actually forgot about tha-wait a minute." He eyed Sam suspiciously. "I see what you're doing; you keep diverting my attention from the question. Enough of that, tell me why you have not been eating."

Sam pulled the covers back over her face.

"Sam, come on talk to me. I know that you are sad but you still have to eat."

She said something but it was muffled.

"What was that?" Brock reached for the covers and gently tugged on them, when he was met with no resistance, he eased them down to her waist. "There, that's better. I am sure you can breathe properly now. So, care to repeat what you just said."

"I keep seeing them."

"Seeing who?" It was if someone had doused Brock with a Bucket of cold water when it finally clicked. "You keep seeing dad and your mom."

Sam nodded, fat tears rolling down her face that Brock wiped away.

"If I so much as look at food, I feel sick. I remember all the blood and how mommy looked weird when she died. Blood was coming out of her eyes."

"Fucking hell." Jack swore, but no one called him on his language.

"I managed to drag daddy out of the car, but he was bleeding from so many places, he kept coughing up blood and a piece of glass was sticking out of his neck."

"Dear god." Brock thought he was going to be sick hearing about the last image Sam had of her parents. His dad.

"I just feel sick every time I should eat."

Brock placed a hand on her leg that was covered and rubbed it in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I understand Sam, believe me I do. But you have to eat."

She looked down at her covers and then raise her head to look unseeingly out the window.

"Sam."

"Who am I going to live with now?" She asked sadly.

"With me." Brock said without hesitation. "Now tell me what you would like to eat."

"I need to get my things from the-"

"Sam!” He said sharply and instantly regretted it when the little girl jumped and looked at him, tears forming in her eyes. "Sam, you do not have to worry about all of that. I will identify the bodies, make the funeral arrangements, I will have the house packed up and have your stuff moved to my apartment. All you have to do right now is heal and eat something."

"A milkshake."

"What?"

"I would like a milkshake please."

Brock looked at Jack who shrugged, "it's a start. I will go and get it and some food."

They both watched him as he left and soon the newly acquainted brother and sister were left by themselves.

Brock studied Sam, wondering what shit he was going to have to wade through by turning back up with a black little sister in tow. He knew that it would make no sense trying to keep her from Pierce but he also knew how ruthless the man could be and having Sam with him was going to be a huge liability. But it's a risk he was going to have to make because he was not going to abandon her.

"Where do you live?" The question brought him out of his thoughts.

"Washington D.C."

"Are you a cop?"

Brock laughed, "no, why do you ask that?"

Sam pointed at him, "because you have a gun." The answer was innocent and matter-of-fact that it took a few seconds for his brain to register what she had said and when he looked down, much to his horror his service weapon was on full display from how his jacket had shifted when he sat down.

He quickly covered it up. "I am not a cop, but I do work in law enforcement."

"Oh, ok." Sam said softly before lying back down.

"Hey, are you in pain?"

"No, just sleepy."

"Rest, I will wake you when Jack gets back."

The room was quiet for a few minutes, Brock thinking that Sam had fallen asleep.

"Hey Brock."

"I thought you fell asleep."

"I was about to but I wanted to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"It's nice to meet you."

Brock felt his face break out into a smile, "it's nice meeting you too." He sat there watching as she slept, taking in her injuries and felt a fierce sort of feeling rise in his chest that he recognised to be protectiveness of the innocent little girl sleeping peacefully in front of him. He knew that should he take her back home with him, she would not be safe, first because of her skin colour and secondly because she is related to him. Pierce would use her to keep him in line and under his thumb until he drew his last breath.

It was those thoughts that made him say what he said to Jack as soon as the man stepped back into the room.

"We have to tell Rogers."


His father and stepmother's funeral was held three days later, Jack being such a big help in all the madness that would have surely driven Brock insane had he had to do it himself with an equally grieving child glued to his side.

Brock came to realise that Sam would speak to only him and Jack. If she could not stick herself to Brock, she could be found glued to Jack and as soon as she got the chance she was back at Brock's side. During the funeral, they stood at the graveside, friends and neighbours surrounding the two open graves, silently crying as the caskets were lowered.

Brock was happy that the day was overcast as wearing a suit in his old town’s merciless heat was just asking to die of a heatstroke. Sam wore a plain black dress, her curls left out in a cascade down her small back, with a black bow in it. The chain with the rings the only colour in her outfit.

They stood side by side, holding hands, Sam's grip on his hand steadily becoming tighter until he looked down to see her silently crying. He released his hold on her hand and picked her up, allowing her to bury her face in his neck as she cried her eyes out, her tiny body trembling.

After the funeral, it was a rush to get the small two-bedroom house packed up. Sam was responsible for packing her room, with Brock and Jack packing up the rest of the house, asking if she wanted to keep certain items of her parents. She kept her mother few pieces of jewellery, the watch she and her mother had gifted her father with for his birthday the previous year and all the photo albums and pictures they found. Everything else was packed up to be donated.

With one last look at his former childhood home, Brock climbed into Jack's car, Sam strapped safely in the back with colouring and puzzle books to keep her occupied for the long ass drive they had ahead of them. The plan of coming clean to Steve, and hoping that all of them, Sam especially coming out of what is going to be an epic shit storm unscathed at the forefront of his mind.


It had been a few days since Brock had brought Sam back to his apartment in Washington D.C., he had moved her into his spare room, which he made a mental note of painting blue sometime soon to match her blue furniture. He was thankful that it was the start of summer so Sam would not have to face any awkwardness at transferring in the middle of the school year. 

The private school he had sourced for her, was near both the Triskelion and his apartment. The school had begun its summer school programme and Brock enrolled Sam, hoping that she would make some friends before the school year began.

All in all, the move had been smooth, however, he had yet to make it known that he now had a younger sister living with him, aside from Jack no one else knew and he had planned to keep it that way until they went to Steve. That part of the plan did not work out so well.

Brock had been in the middle of making macaroni and cheese (heavy on the cheese) and fish sticks for Sam's dinner when the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and after checking that Sam was still engrossed with her summer school home work in the living room, he went and answered the door.

His hear stopped when he saw who was on the other side of the door.

"Mr. Pierce." He was proud that his voice was steady. "To what do I owe this pleasure." 

Alexander Pierce, head of H.Y.D.R.A., but known only to those who were H.Y.D.R.A. smiled in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner but Brock knew better and saw right through the facade.

"Please Brock, we are both off the clock. Call me Alex, all my friends do."

"Is that what we are? Friends?" Brock raised an eyebrow. 

Pierce laughed not even batting an eye at the question. "Well I thought we were, but now I am thinking differently considering I had to hear through the grapevine that you had a little visitor from out of town."

If Brock was another type of man, he would have broken out in a cold sweat and gave everything away as those words left Pierce's mouth, he thought that he had been discreet but apparently not discreet enough, instead he grinned and scratched the back of his neck.

"I was going to wait until it was 'take your kid to work day' but since the cat's out of the bag, why don't you come in and let me introduce you."

His heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest as he led Pierce to the living room where Sam was still busy working on her homework. Brock saw the exact moment when they turned the corner and stepped into the living room, as Pierce registered that his best agent's little sister was of mixed race, something that greatly disturbed him. There may have been, for a lack a better term 'people of colour' within H.Y.D.R.A. who shared in this twisted belief about a better, more orderly world if certain people and races did not exist, but he still had a problem with their skin tone.

"Sam, sweetheart." Brock called her and two men watched as a little head with wild dark curls spun to face them, green eyes wide with curiosity as they caught sight of both him and Pierce.

"Come here," and when Sam walked over to him, he stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, "Sam, I would like to introduce you to my boss, Alexander Pierce. Alex this is my little sister Sam."

Pierce smiled and Brock could tell it was a fake, Sam must have picked up on it as well, because Brock felt her shoulders tense under his hands.

"Hi Samantha-"

"It's Sam." Both brother and sister said as the same time.

Pierce glanced up at Brock who stared back at him, his face giving away nothing

"My sincerest apologies Sam, it's so nice to meet you."

"You too." Sam responded.

"So, do you like living here with your brother?"

"Yes, I do."

"And where are your parents."

"Dead." Was the blunt answer.

Brock had no idea what game Pierce was playing, asking questions he already knew the answers to.

Pierce was about to say something else when a loud rumbling sound came from Sam's tummy.

She turned her head to look up at Brock.

"It's time to feed the beast." She said and Brock had to smile at her.

He looked back up at Pierce, "I was in the middle of making dinner."

"Ok, I will get out of your hair." He smiled down again at Sam, this time his smile had a bit of malice in it and Brock tightened his grip on Sam's shoulders. "Well Sam I look forward to seeing you again. I will see myself out."

Sam and Brock watched him as he left, Sam only speaking once they heard the door close.

"Brock you're hurting me."

Brock released her shoulders and grasped her wrist, pulling her over to the coffee table where she was previously sitting. He grabbed her pencil and notebook to scribble a message.

'GO AND PACK A BAG OF CLOTHES.'

Sam read it and looked at Brock. He tilted his head in the direction of her room and she ran towards it. Brock went to his room and collected his bag that was already packed, opening it and taking out the prepaid cell phone he had. He opened the message option and typed a message to Jack.

'THE GAME IS ON. GRAB THE BEER AND HEAD ON OVER.'

Once the message had been sent, he pulled apart the phone and took out the battery and sim card. He went back into the kitchen where he threw them in the microwave and fried them.

Brock turned around when he heard small footsteps behind him and was greeted with a note in Sam's surprisingly neat cursive hand writing. 

'WHAT'S GOING ON?'

Brock knew, he knew that Sam was no fool, no matter how young she was, so he went over to her, crouching down so that they were at eye level, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He took her notebook and wrote 'WE ARE GOING TO MEET ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE. YOU WILL LIKE HIM.'

Sam looked up at him, her big green eyes had worry swimming in them but she squared her little shoulders and nodded. Brock kissed her forehead before raising from his crouch. He took her hand and together they left his apartment, using the back stairwell to the underground parking lot. Sam was confused when they passed his car, but she kept quiet trusting him to do what it took to get them out of whatever it is that was happening.

The walked out of the garage and out onto the street, avoiding the areas lit by street lights until they came to a black non-descript Toyota SUV. Brock opened the back door for Sam who climbed in.

"Buckle up."

"You don't have to tell me." Sam grumbled as she did as told.

They drove in silence, and in circles at one point. Brock constantly checking the rear-view mirror to ensure that Sam was ok. She must not have been as panicked as him or the driving around was soothing to her because upon the tenth time checking on her Brock found her fast asleep. He shook his head in wonder.

 Finally arriving at their destination, Brock pulled the car over to the curb and got out, walking to the backdoor.

"Sam, sweetheart, you need to wake up. We are here."

Sam slowly woke up, blinking dazedly and then rubbing her eyes.

"Where's 'here?'" She asked around a huge yawn.

"My friend’s apartment. Come on, let's go up and meet him."

Brock grasped her hand once she was out of the car, together they walked into the lobby of the apartment building, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor where they met Jack and another man waiting in the dark corner at the end of the other hall.

"Jack." Brock greeted his friend and turned to look at the other man. " Good thing we had him change, because Rogers is going to kill us the moment he opens his door."

"Nah, he won't just throw Sam at him. No one can resist those big, innocent green eyes."

They looked at Sam who in turn was staring at the man who stood there obviously listening to the conversation but not taking part in it. The man's eyes then found hers and she smiled shyly.

"I like your eyes." She said before hiding her face in Brock's jacket.

Jack started snickering, while the man smiled gently.

"Thank you." He said, voice rough from disuse.

"No, just no." Brock began walking towards Steve's apartment door, dragging Sam behind him. "You are too young to be liking anything about boys."

"Wait until she becomes a teenager." Jack still snickering, unhelpfully supplied as he and the other man trailed behind them. "You are going to have such a warm time beating off the boys with a stick."

"Good thing I have a .45 and a shovel." Brock shot back.

All four of the reached the door and Brock was suddenly feeling nervous.

"Too late to back out." Jack said, eyeing the door before them with trepidation. 

Brock knocked twice on the door and they all remained quiet, hearing muffled shuffling on the other side of the door before it swung open to reveal Steve Rogers. He first looked at Brock, then he looked down to see Sam staring back up at him, and Jack and some guy with a cap tugged low covering his eyes standing with them.

"Ummm, hi?" He looked bewildered. "Is everything ok?"

"No," Brock answered bluntly, deciding to get straight to the point, "H.Y.D.R.A. is still alive." Steve's eyes widened at the reveal and Sam's eyes snapped to look at Brock, who kept a firm grip on her hand.

"Wha- how- what?" Steve stammered out, not processing what he heard.

 "H.Y.D.R.A. is still alive."  Brock repeated slowly, "and it is being led by Alexander Pierce who has something big and dangerous planned, with Project Insight."

"Ok, and you know all this how?"

"Because Jack and I are H.Y.D.R.A."

There, he had spoken the unspeakable and was waiting for the dead silence to be broken either by Steve's million and one questions or by his nose being broken by the man who crashed a plane and 'died' to wipe them out.

"You fucking Nazi." A child's voice hissed out and four pairs of shocked eyes turned to look at Sam who was staring up at Brock with pure hatred. "You are a Nazi!" She shouted, her voice raising in volume. "Let go of me! Let go of me!" She tried pulling her hand out of Brock's relentless grip. "LET GO OF ME!' She shrieked and Brock frantically looked behind him hoping that no one had heard her yet.

He turned back to Steve, "can we please continue this inside, before she wakes up the whole building?"

Numbly Steve stepped aside, allowing them to enter his apartment. 

Sam was still struggling to get free, so Brock grabbed her around her waist and hauled her off her feet, carrying her into the apartment all the while still kicking and screaming. Jack and the other man following behind them.

Steve closed the door and turned to face. "Ok, explain and start from the beginning. And whose kid is that?" 

"She's my sister." Brock said between gritted teeth. Sam trying her best to wiggle out of Brock's grip. He was thankful though that she had given up on screaming her lungs out. 

"Sister." A light bulb went on over Steve's head as he remembered Brock finding out that he had a little sister. "You have a black sister and you are H.Y.D.R.A."

"Well, technically, not-" Brock grunted when Sam elbowed him in his stomach. 

"I am of mixed race. My mother was black and my father white, hence I am mixed. Get it right stupid-ass."

"Language." Brock chastised before continuing, "and not anymore since I am committing treason. Partly because of her." He indicated to Sam.

"Put me down!"

"If I put you down, do you promise to behave?"

The room was quiet as Sam contemplated. 

"Fine." She said petulantly. 

Brock placed her down gently, however, he was not prepared for the kicks and punches she began raining down on him.

"Nazi! Racist! Asshole! Stupid head! I hate you!"

"Sam stop." 

"No! Do you see my skin colour?! Do you? You stupid Nazi!"

Brock grasped her arms and crouched down to her eye level which was a big mistake on his part when Sam spat straight into his eye. There was a collective gasp as no one moved or said anything, waiting to see what Brock was going to do to a fuming Sam.

He stood up and calmly wiped his eye. The next thing everyone saw was him grabbing Sam, lifting her and throwing her so that she sailed through the air to land directly on Steve's plush couch. Sam bounced but was stunned for a few seconds before she regained her senses and was about to shoot up off the couch.

"Oh my God! Brock!" Steve exclaimed

"Stay right where you are." Brock pointed on her, his tone and face serious and Sam glared at him as she sat back down, turning her back to the men in the room. "Your ass is in a time-out until we are finished talking." 

Sam flipped him the bird. 

"What have you been teaching you little sister?" Steve asked looking between the two.

"Nothing, trust me. She was like that way before we met. Do not let her cute face fool you."

"You cannot just throw a child Brock." Jack said.

"That's nothing. We rough house all the time at home."

"Don't you think we're getting off topic here?" A raspy voice said and Jack, Brock and Steve turned to look at the man who had been quiet up till then so they had forgotten that he was also in the room with them. 

"Right," Brock cleared his throat, "long story short: H.Y.D.R.A. is still alive Cap. It did not go down when you did, but it survived within SHIELD and slowly infected it from the inside out. Now Pierce will be utilizing Project Insight to take out anyone who poses a threat to H.Y.D.R.A.'s ideals."

Steve let what was just revealed to him to sink in. "Do you have any proof of all of this."

Brock and Jack glanced at each other.

"Please do not kill us."

Jack turned to the man who had accompanied them, "remove your cap soldier."

The man did as told and there was a hush in the room.

"Holy shit!!! It's Bucky Barnes!" Sam piped up.

"Language Sam." Brock rubbed his forehead, knowing that once this drama was over and done with he was going to need a long vacation. "For the love of God watch your language!"

"What the fuck?" Steve whispered, staring at his thought to be dead best friend, who in turn was looking back at him as if he did not even recognise him. "Why does he look like he's focused but not all here at the same time?"

"The result of torture and lots of brain washing." Jack answered.

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his angry blue eyes zoning in on Brock.

"The only reason you are not dead is because we need to stop H.Y.D.R.A. and the only reason I am not going to kill you after this shit has been dealt with," he pointed at Sam who was watching the entire exchange with wide curious eyes, "is because of that little girl sitting on my couch."

"Fine by me."

"Great, now let's go." Steve grabbed his shield and was heading towards the front door.

"Go where?"

"Tony's, we are going to need all the help we can get and Bruce, Natasha and Clint are all currently there."

"That makes sense and I can leave Sam in the Tower, that way she will be safe." 

"Yes, now let's go." Steve walked out ahead of them, Bucky following behind closely, his eyes never leaving the blonde's back as something familiar about him niggled at the back of his tortured brain, with Jack taking up the rear.

Brock looked back at Sam who had her back turned to him again.

"Come along Sam, we have to get going, I need to get you somewhere safe."

She did as told and was about to walk pass him when Brock stopped her.

"Sam."

She refused to meet his eyes.

"I know that you are angry and probably hurt right now, but I promise when this is all over, I am going to do everything in my power to make things right with you. Ok?" Brock pleaded with her, his heart-breaking that he had hurt her.

"Whatever."

it was not the answer Brock was hoping for, but he would take it. "Ok, good. Now let's get you somewhere safe.


Four grown men, two who were formerly H.Y.D.R.A. and one thought to be long dead with a little girl in tow showing up at the Avengers Tower in the night might have been an odd sight to any outsider looking in.

Predictably Bruce, Tony, Natasha and Clint were shocked at the information they received (thought Natasha hid it well), the three men were also shocked to learn that the little girl was Brock's sister.

"So, who is watching Mini Brock while we go save the world." Tony asked, "I mean, I know I have a smart tower but I still do not feel comfortable leaving her here by herself."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Tony, you have a broken knee and a shattered wrist." Bruce pointed out, "You, Bucky and I will be staying back to keep Sam company since you cannot go anywhere, we can't have Bucky falling into the wrong hands again and the Big Guy is not needed for this."

Tony looked as if someone said Christmas had been cancelled from the look on his face.

"Fine, go have all the fun without me."

Natasha sidled up beside the wheelchair Tony was sitting and crouched down so that she could look in his eyes.” When we get back how about you tell me all about your invention." 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Tony broke eye contact. "I have a shattered wrist, and the doctor said no strenuous activity." 

"And we both know that is a load of bullshit you're spewing."

"Hey, no cursing!" Brock, Jack and Steve yelled, pointing at Sam who was sitting at one the many computer monitors in the briefing room, completely engrossed in an online puzzle game.

Tony laughed at Natasha who rolled her eyes.

"Sorry."

"Ok," Steve's Captain America voice sounded and everyone turned their attention to him except for Sam who was too engrossed in her game. "Everyone knows what they are supposed to do. Let's get out there and finally put this to rest. Go get geared up."

Everyone began filing out of the room and Sam finally broke herself away from her computer game to trail behind Brock.

"Brock." Her voice was tiny and he spun around immediately crouching so that they were on the same eye level.

"What is it pumpkin?" He smoothed down her hair and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hooking her chin over his shoulder.

"What will happen to me if you die?" 

He held her tighter, “that is not going to happen. I am coming back for you."

"You can't promise that!" Sam pulled back, tears streaming down her face, dripping from her jaw and falling on her shirt.

He wiped them away. "I know I can't but I will do my best and if anything should happen to me, Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, Clint, Jack, hell even Bucky will take care of you."

"You may be a Nazi, but I want you to take care of me."

Brock's heart broke and he pulled her back to him, crushing her tiny body to his. He got up and she held on tightly as he walked towards the gear room, all the while whispering soothing and words of encouragement that he would be coming back to her. When he entered the room, he sat her down on a table right beside some high-powered assault rifles.

"Brock, do you think it's such a good idea making her sit there?" Steve asked, indicating the weapons on the table.

"I am not an idiot." Sam said, finally having gotten control over her tears. "I am not going to tou- what is that?! It's so cool!" She pointed at a compound bow, laying among the assault rifles on the table.

"Oh, you like it?" Clint walked up to the table, fully outfitted for the war they were about to finish and picked it up. "Tony custom made it just for me. Here hold it." He put the bow in Sam's hands.

"I thought it would have been heavy."

Tony rolled his wheelchair over to her, "I made it so that it was light as a feather, so circus boy would not have any problems wielding it while in battle. It still packs a punch when someone is struck by it thought." He boasted.

"How about when we get back, I teach you how to use it."

"Yeah, that sounds cool." Sam said as she examined it. "I just have one question." 

Both Clint and Tony looked like eager puppies at hearing that and Brock knew exactly what was coming.

"Why does it have to be purple?" 

Both men faces fell and Brock started cackling, moving away from them and over to where the handguns were kept.

"What do you mean why is it purple? What do you have against purple?" Clint looked offended. "It is a great colour, which happens to be my favourite and it is the colour of royalty."

"Blue is better." Sam said with all the haughtiness a ten year could muster.

"Give me that." Clint took the bow from Sam, caressing it as if trying to soothe its hurt feelings.

"I create such a magnificent weapon and you are more concerned with the colour." Tony sniffed. "I am never making anything for you." He wheeled himself away and over to Natasha to complain about the child who hurt his feelings.

"I am seriously rethinking leaving her here with him." Brock jokingly said to Steve as he checked his guns and other weapons. "He's going to turn her into a crazy weapons person."

Jack walked up to them, "yeah, instead of asking for Barbie dolls, she's going to be wanting lasers for her birthday."

"Not helping Jack."

"Not trying to." He shot back, cheeky grin on his face.

"Alright guys," Steve spoke up and everyone quieted down, "this is it. Time to eradicate this disease once and for all." He looked around the room and saw how Sam was off the table, standing by Brock, clutching his hand so tight that her knuckles were pale while Brock was running his thumb over them trying to soothe her.

"It is going to be a long, hard and gut-wrenching mission, but we are all going to so our parts, watch each other's backs and come back home. All in that order. Let's go, we got someone who is going to meet us there."

Brock looked down at Sam who was looking up at him, tears in her eyes.

"I will come back to you, because I still need to explain why I joined H.Y.D.R.A. and we have to get to know each other."

Sam nodded, "and if you do not come back I hope our parents ground you when you get to heaven."

He smirked, "you think I am going to heaven?"

"Yeah, you are doing the right thing, so I think you will be allowed to enter the Pearly Gates."

"Give me a hug Sam Rumlow."

He lifted her up and the siblings gave each other the tightest hugs they could.

"Now, be a good girl for the adults and do not let Tony rope you into any craziness."

"I make no promises."

"Brat."

"Old man."

Brock boarded the quinjet and looked back at Sam until the door closed, blocking them from each other.

The next few hours were some of the craziest and most nerve wracking any of them had ever experienced. 

Sam sat glued to the t.v. watching as the shit hit the fan and as H.Y.D.R.A. scrambled around like chickens with their heads cut off. Soon after Natasha had leaked all S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and H.Y.D.R.A.'s dirty little secrets online for the world to see. 

"Do you think we should be allowing her to watch this?" Bucky asked making Bruce and Tony jumped.

"Wow, he speaks." Tony said, willing his heart to calm down.

Bruce pushed his glasses back up his nose bridge and looked at Sam, "do you really want to tell her that she should not be watching this?"

"I honestly do not think that we can make that child do anything she does not want to." Tony said and they all looked at her, watching as history in the making unfolded before them again.


The mission was going well so far without any problems.

Jack was with Natasha and Fury when he saw Pierce's fingers reaching for his phone on the table and put a bullet through it. Natasha then put a bullet between his eyes when Pierce pulled his gun and aimed it at Jack to shoot him in retaliation.

Steve, Clint and Brock were able to switch out the chips in the helicarriers, replacing it with the ones Fury had given them upon arrival. Agent Maria Hill then sent the three helicarriers crashing into each other.

The problems began when the helicarrier Brock was on descended faster than the other two, which resulted in him missing the opportunity of getting off it. Steve, Natasha, Clint, Jack, Hill and Fury watched in horror as the helicarrier dropped towards the Potomac River. As it descended sideways, Steve saw Brock fell through one of the many broken windows, clearly unconscious before he even hit the water. 

"Shit!" Steve dove out of the helicopter and into the icy water of the river to rescue Brock. He grabbed him as his unconscious body was sinking down to the dark murky depths of the river and brought him back up to the surface. 

"He's not breathing!" He shouted as Fury brought down the chopper to hover above them, Jack and Clint grabbing Brock and hauling him on board, immediately administering CPR.

Brock coughed up water and began breathing again, however, he remained unconscious.

"We have to get him to a hospital." Clint said, feeling his pulse and how it was weak. 


An incessant beeping noise is what pulled Brock from the deep sleep he was in, not to mention whatever it was that was currently wrapped around his head and up his nostrils. There was also the smell of bleach in the air and he wondered why he was smelling bleach in his apartment. He had stopped using it the first time Sam complained of the smell making it difficult for her to breathe, only to discover the next day at her doctor's appointment that she was allergic to some of the chemical properties in it and if she inhaled enough of it, her entire respiratory system could shut down.

He had promptly thrown out all the bleach and bleach based cleaning products he had.

The other thing he noticed upon coming back to the land of the living was how warm his side felt and a weight pressing down on his chest. Once he got his open and they remained opened, he looked around and saw that he was in a sterile white room, with sun shining through the blinds covering the huge window by the bed. 

Wondering what was pressing down on his chest, Brock lifted his head a little with great difficulty and saw a mop of dark curly hair that could only belong to one person he knew.

"Hey." He poked at the head on his chest, voice raspy from disuse. "Hey."

"She just fell asleep, so more than likely she is not going to get up." 

Brock turned his head from Sam's sleeping form to Jack who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the hospital bed.

"Sh-she shouldn't be he-here." Brock said, his voice breaking. "Bleach not good for her."

Jack raised an eyebrow looking rather amused. "Trust me know. And after the screaming match she had with Rogers, I think all of New York knows that she is allergic to bleach."

Brock dropped his head back onto the pillow. "What happened?"

"To you or with Sam?"

"Sam."

"Well, when Sam found that you had to be taken to the hospital, she did the responsible thing and informed everyone that bleach affected her respiratory system. Tony said that he would take a regular gas mask and modify it so that it would keep out the scent of bleach." Jack chuckled as he remembered how everything played out in Tony's lab. Everyone's head swivelling back and forth as Sam and Steve argued.

"Steve, thanks to growing up with almost every illness known to man, he decided to try and talk her out of seeing you while you were in the hospital. Trying to placate her with words, saying 'oh, he will be home in a few days', 'he's unconscious Sam, I don't think he will know you're there.'" Jack mimicked Steve. "Oh, and the best one 'Sam you are allergic to bleach and the hospital's air is filled with it so I am forbidding you from going.'"

"Oh my God." Brock groaned, "does Steve have a death wish?"

"Brock, you would have been so proud of her. Sam ripped into him like no other."

"I can imagine."

"Sam started shouting, her voice getting louder and louder, until she went over into the shrieking category, climbed in decibels in that category to the point where I think only dogs could hear her and then Brock, do you know what she did?"

"Do I even want to know?"

Jack sighed, "your little sister is dangerous and I pity the fool who tries to make her do what she does not want to do. Sam suddenly went deathly quiet; we all thought she had popped a vocal cord until she started speaking real low and Brock let me tell you, she was menacing. She told Steve to either let Tony make a mask for her and take her to the hospital or she would take the bus to the hospital herself sans mask and possibly have her die from respiratory failure thanks to bleach poisoning."

"She really said that?" Brock chuckled, only to groan in pain from agitating his injuries.

"Yeah, she really wanted to see you and nothing and no one was going to keep her from you." 

"So, I am assuming that what is currently poking me in my chest is her mask."

"Yeah."

"You know," a tiny voice spoke up surprising both men, "for someone who has been asleep for three days, you sure do talk a lot."

"Hey, be nice, I am injured and laid up in the hospital."

Sam turned her head to face him and he had to stifle his laughter from how she looked with the mask on her face.

"Go ahead, laugh. I dare you."

"Sorry sweetheart, you are not that scary with that contraption on your face."

"This contraption is what is keeping me breathing and alive."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Jack leaned back in his seat watching as the two siblings bickered.

Sam's eyes went mockingly wide behind the mask. "Dramatic? Dramatic? At least I am not the one who was 'princess carried' into the hospital by Captain America."

"Please tell me he did not."

"He did." Jack said solemnly, "he grabbed you as soon as we touched down, saying 'he still has information we need but most importantly Sam needs him'. It was quite the sight to see, everyone on the emergency room came to a standstill, the only thing missing was a white horse."

Brock chuckled at the image and looked at Sam, "I heard you almost throttled him when he was trying to keep you away from me."

"Yeah," Sam reach up and bush some hair away from his forehead, "he was being stupid, and I was a few seconds away from jumping him and scratching his eyes out."

"Why are you such a violent little person?" Brock often wondered where she got that aggressiveness from and decided that once he was healed he was going to start training her to have an outlet for all that energy and if she learnt how to defend herself in the process, well that was a bonus.

"Hey, when I get out of here, we are going to sit do and have a serious chat about my past career choices."

Sam nodded, "but for now you need to rest."

"Are you going to stay with me?"

"I still have this contraption on my face, don't I? Besides if anyone tried to make me leave, I would claw their eyes out."

Brock could not argue with that.

"Ok, my lil' crouching tiger, hidden dragon, sleep now and bodily harm later."

Jack watched as Brock ran his hand down Sam's sleeping head, drifting off into sleep himself, a soft smile on his face seeing that the two siblings were alright.

 

 

Chapter Text

Sam never thought that she would be fighting off advances from the Winter Soldier; but here she was standing in his small but clean and well-kept apartment in Bucharest where both her and Steve had cornered the elusive Bucky Barnes after two years of chasing his ass around the world.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a few words and once Steve was satisfied that he was not going to attack them or try and run away, he walked over to the back door to call Tony to secure a ride home for them.

Sam had been taking in the aesthetics of the apartment when she felt eyes burning through her soul and saw Bucky staring at her; or more like appreciating what he was seeing as if he was looking at a fine work of art and Sam raised an impressed eyebrow. 

"The fuck are you looking at like that?"

She saw the dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked at her, the slow wicked smirk that formed on his face. Sam knew instantly that she was in trouble from the very slow up and down look Bucky gave her.

"The finest piece of ass I have seen since, 1942." Bucky said bluntly.

"Hell no, you do not tear the steering wheel of my car out of my hands causing my car to wreck, rip me from the sky and tear my wing from my back only to kick me off the hellicarrier and then say that to me."

"I am sorry." He apologised and Sam knew he was being sincere, but the smirk on his face and the glint in his eyes dimmed the apology by a lot.

Sam rolled her eyes and turned to Steve when he came back over to them; Bucky putting on his innocent act that Steve gobbled up like Christmas dinner and Sam had no idea who she wanted to slap more.

Bucky may have spent the last seventy odd years as a brainwashed, prisoner of war to HYDRA, but he still had the same possessive personality over people he considered his and once he set his sights on something or someone, he will not stop until he has claimed it, or in this case, until he has claimed Sam.

Steve informed them that a jet was enroute to them and where they would be going to meet it.

As they left the apartment, Sam walked ahead of the two men, all the while feeling Bucky's eyes on her and while her mouth and head said 'no' she never knew she would have such a hard time fighting off the advances of the Winter Soldier, while her body was screaming for to have her way with him.


When they reached back states side, Sam said her good bye's and went back to D.C. only to open her front door three days later to see both Steve and Bucky standing on her front porch; Bucky looked smug and Steve looked sheepish.

"I had business in D.C. and he wanted to tag along." Steve explained.

Sam crossed her arms over her chest, noticing how Bucky's eyes were drawn to the swell of her bosom but ignored him or at least tried to, but she could not help how her hormones reacted to being the sole attention of those sniper eyes.

"And what does that have to do with you showing up at my doorstep?"

"Bucky said he wanted to visit you and I figured it would be ok if we stayed here instead of a hotel?" Steve ended his explanation as a question. "Bucky could keep you company while I work." He suggested.

Sam wanted to slap the smug smile off Bucky's face at the suggestion and to slam Steve's face into the ground for suggesting it in the first place. He is best friends with the man from childhood, so he should know the inner workings of Bucky and what the man thought every time he looked at her! However, being the great friend that she is, Sam pushed the door open wider at that Bucky entered her home, making sure to brush against her lightly as he walked passed and Sam resisted the urge to wipe off the spot that he touched.

"Aren't you coming in?" She asked Steve who still remained on the front porch.

"I have a meeting to get to." He started backing up, his eyes flitting between Sam and Bucky.

"Ok, have fun. See you later." Sam said instead of begging Steve to stay and act as a buffer between her and his lascivious friend. 

"Bye guys."

They both waved as Steve left.

Sam closed the front door and turned to look at Bucky who was doing his best to eat her alive with his eyes.

"Watch yourself." She warned and walked away.

"Rather watch you." Bucky all but purred.

Sam spun around and walked back towards him, murder written on her face which Bucky smirked at. He was amused by this slip of a woman violating his personal space in an aggressive manner and it made him hot. He wanted nothing more than to push her up against the opposite wall and plunder those downturn lips.

"Barnes, if you so much as even utter one more suggestive innuendo, sentence, word or even look at me in a less that platonic manner I will hurt you.

The smile that formed on his lips was downright filthy.

"I don't mind a little pain mixed with a whole lot of pleasure."

Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously, even as her insides burned from his words and smile.

"I will end you Barnes."

"If you are to end me, I would not mind that one bit should it happen between your legs."

"The history books had it very wrong." Sam said as she backed away from Bucky and his filthy mouth. "You are no charmer, you a wolf in sheep clothing."

"All the better to eat you out." Bucky smiled sharply and Sam beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom.


It seemed as if the universe was in cahoots with Bucky and his sly self and filthy mouth.

Anytime Steve came to visit her Bucky tagged along, all the while acting innocent in front of Steve but as soon as he was out of ear shot, Bucky would say the filthiest thing he could to Sam, who wanted nothing more to stomp him into the ground, especially since her traitorous body would respond to his words and she found herself many nights, with her hand as her only source of pleasure, wishing it was someone else's hand or body part, with a solid weight between her legs, pressing her down into her bed. 

If she helped out on missions, she and Bucky would somehow end up in the same group without fail or worse, they would be teamed up together, something Bucky took great pleasure in. 

He was a complete professional in the field, but once they were back on the quinjet, Bucky would sidle up next to her and whisper in her ear, "the best way to work off adrenaline would be very rigorous activity." Bucky's smile was that if a wolf as Sam stared him down. "Care to work it off with me, we could wrestle." He stepped closer to her, "I would not mind having you squirming and writhing beneath me."

During movie nights, Bucky would plaster himself to Sam, something the others noticed and would tease them for, Bucky took it in stride, laughing along, while Sam was torn between punching him in his crotch and straddling him to ride said well endowed crotch. He would always manage to brush his fingers along her neck, arm, her thigh.


It all came to a head one evening while Sam was in her kitchen eating a slice of cherry cheesecake.

Bucky was staying with Sam while Steve was in town for some more meetings and she found that Bucky was a great help around the house whenever he stayed with her. He may have been a sly wolf but he was rather domesticated. He cleaned every nook and cranny, he took over laundry duties and she always woke up to breakfast, something new each day, she came home from work to a nice hot meal, not to mention that her lunches were the envy of everyone at work.

She asked Steve about his domestic qualities and Steve informed her that since he was sick majority of the time when they lived together, Bucky had to do all the cooking and cleaning, something it seems that HYDRA was unable to get rid of. 

Another thing Sam noticed was that Bucky never told her 'no.' Anything she asked of him or told him to do, Bucky would do. This was a bit disconcerting and Sam had to restrain herself from taking advantage of his kind personality, only to be reminded a few minutes later what his true colours were when he looks her up and down like his last meal and says, "you would be so tight and wet around my cock."

While he said things that made Sam's blood race, he never laid his hands on her in an inappropriate manner.

Bucky, however, apparently drew the line at eating cheesecake, something Sam found out one evening when she came home with a small cheesecake from the local pastry shop where she decided to stop on a whim.

He had taken one look at the sweet treat before him, folded his arms across his chest, leaned back against the counter and said a curt 'no."

She chuckled in amusement, "why don't you tell me how you really feel?" She teased.

Something she realised was a mistake when Bucky got a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I have been telling how I really feel." He growled and Sam swallowed. “What if I told you that I want to throw you down on that exact table you’re eating at, on your back, spread your legs and fuck you senseless

Bucky levelled her with a dangerous look that made heat pool between her thighs.

He stood up properly and began walking around the counter to where she was seated on the other side. She watched him like a deer caught in headlight.

“I have been telling you that I want to rip open your blouse and suck on your breasts, your nipples until your back arches and you scream in pleasure. I have been telling you that I want to mark your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs with my mouth.”

He came to stand behind her, caging her in with his hands on either side of her. Bucky’s hands were about to leave dents in her kitchen table from where he had a tight grip on it. 

Bucky leaned down so that he could whisper in her ear, "I have been telling you since that time in my apartment, that I want to bury my cock deep inside your tight cunt."

His warm breath tickled her skin.

"I have been telling you since you and Steve cornered me in my apartment, that you are mine and I intend to claim you."

Sam spun around and she was met with hungry and predatory eyes and he looked about ready to jump her.

"It is you who have not been listening to what I have been saying." Bucky slid his hands from the counter to her thighs and squeezed them, enjoying Sam's sharp inhale of breath. "Why don't you try telling truthfully what you want?" 

He looked smug and Sam knew that she was right where he wanted her to be. 

She licked her lips nervously and his eyes tracked it, just like the sniper he was trained to be.

"I want all that. Everything you just said. I want to not be able to walk properly when you are through with me."

Sam grabbed his shirt and dragged him closer to her.

"I want you to wreck me."

Bucky wasted no time in sealing his lips over Sam's or divesting her of her clothing.

"I am going to make you scream for weeks of denying me, for ignoring me even when your body was screaming for my touch."

Sam was busy pulling the button and zipper of his jeans pants and sliding it along with his choice of underwear down his hips, over his glorious ass and thighs that she could not wait to grind against. She grabbed his thick erect cock, making him hiss at the sensation.

"I hope that you can deliver and that you are not all talk soldier."

Bucky grinned rakishly at her and in and instant he her on her back on the table, gripping her thighs to draw her closer to the edge. He looked into her eyes.

"Tell me if this is all talk." He then entered her in one swift thrust, causing her back to arch and for her to scream in pure pleasure. Bucky set a relentless and brutal pace as he pounded into Sam. His grip tight on her slender waist, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

Sam had one hand gripping the table and the other holding onto Bucky's metal arm. She felt when he removed his other arm from her waist and brought it down between them only for her to buck her hips when she felt his thumb rubbing vigorously at her sensitive clit. 

"Fuck! Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!" She began chanting his name.

"Yeah, that's it doll, offer up yourself to me." Bucky leaned down over her, taking a nipple in his mouth, alternating between sucking and nibbling on it, further driving her crazy with pleasure. His thumb still driving her mad as it rubbed her sensitive nub.

Sam felt that oh so familiar warmth pool in her belly bottom and she tightened her legs around his waist.

"Don't stop."

"Never." Bucky knew she was close and he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss and with one final thrust he fucked her over the metaphorical precipice, feeling her walls clench tightly around him, Bucky followed her over that same precipice, releasing his hot seed deep within her.

Once her walls had stopped clenching his cock, milking it for all its worth, he went soft and gentle pulled out of her. Bucky felt a sense of possessiveness at seeing some of his seed spilling out of her wet and oversensitive entrance, using his index and middle fingers of his metal hand, he scooped it up and pushed it back into her, causing Sam to shake and convulse around his fingers.

"Bucky," Sam moaned when he began to gently massage her clit. "Bucky, no more. I am can't go anymore."

He smiled at his handy work and leaned over her well and used body, kissing her deep and gently. 

"I know. We can go again later when you have rest up."

Sam laughed, "you sure are cocky."

"You weren't complaining a few minutes ago when my cock was making you scream."

"Oh my God, you are going to be even more unbearable now."

"Yeah." Bucky gave her one final peck on her lips. "But the sex will be amazing."

Just then they heard the front door open and a voice call out.

"Sam? Bucky?"

Sam's eyes went wide. 

"Shit! Steve!"

Bucky immediately grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor and pulled it over Sam's head, helping her to put her arms through the sleeves and pull it down to cover her nudity. He then stood in front of her to preserve modesty right as Steve walked into the kitchen.

"Hey gu-AHH!!!" Steve' scream was shrill and Sam actually felt bad for him. "Fucking hell Bucky!!! What are you doing standing around naked?!"

"Well, I was having a very nice post-coital moment before you walked in and ruined it with all your screaming."

"Post-coital?" The confusion was clear in Steve's voice. "With wh- Bucky no."

"Bucky yes." The asshole was smug.

"Sam?"

Sam peeked from behind Bucky's large frame to see a disbelieving Steve looking back at her.

"Hi Steve."

He looked back at Bucky, an unimpressed look on his face.

"I am glad to see that somethings have not changed." He commented. 

Bucky looked at him, an innocent expression on his face that Steve was not going to fall for.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Bucky may have been a master assassin, but even he could not hide that possessive glint in his grey/blue eyes.

Steve shook his head, "you are something else Barnes and for the love of God, put on your damn pants."

Bucky did as told, snickering, but not moving from in front of Sam, still shielding her modesty from Steve's view.

He knew how Bucky worked and he may have spent the last seventy years as a brainwashed, prisoner of war to HYDRA, but he still had the same possessive personality over people he considered his and Steve knew that once he set his sights on something or someone, he will not stop until he has claimed it, or in this case, until he has claimed Sam; which looking from their state and condition he already did. Sam had no idea that she had just sealed her fate by giving into Bucky.

Steve crosses his arms, looking stern and Sam knew he was in Captain America mode.

"I hope that you used protection and did not soil Sam's honour."

Sam wanted to snort at that until Steve's words penetrated her brain and that one word jumped out at her.

'Protection.'

"Bucky," her voice was tiny. They had not used any protection.

"Just know that when Sam gives birth, you can name the child Steve or Stephanie." That was Steve's parting comment. " You know, depending on the sex." 

The front door closed signalling Steve's departure and Bucky turned to face her, and instead of seeing a look of panic, horror or even regret on his face, Sam saw a look of pure possessiveness and ownership.

"Fuck, I am hard again." He grabbed Sam's hand placing it over his steel hard cock. "Thinking of you pregnant with my child," he slipped his hand under the shirt she was wearing to place it against her flat stomach. 

"Bucky?" Sam saw the lust swirling in those steel blue eyes.

"That would show that you are mine, that we are together." He slowly pulled the shirt over her head. His eyes raking over her body, stopping at her still wet with his seed cunt.

"Buck-" Sam's voice caught in her throat when Bucky parted her legs further open and stood between them, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants to allow his straining cock its freedom to spring out the confined space. It was red at the tip, precum leaking out of it as he slowly pumped it.

"Imagine me fucking into you while you're heavily pregnant with our child." Bucky's voice was a low growl and Sam did not stop him as he sheathed himself within her hot, tight and dripping wet cunt. "Fuck Sam," he dropped his forehead to hers, "imagine a little child, the spitting image of you, with my eyes." 

Sam was clinging to him, her nails leaving red crescent marks in his skin which healed almost immediately. 

"You. Are. Mine. Sam Wilson." He emphasised his last words with thrusts and Sam felt her walls clench tightly at his total and complete ownership and fell down that dark rabbit hole as his hot seed was once again released into her unprotected womb.

"Bucky!" She screamed, throwing her head back and Bucky bit the tempting skin of her neck, the pain making her clench even more around him. She fell back against the table, breathing hard, only for Bucky to collapse on top of her a few seconds after.

"Sam," he swallowed, breathing hard in her neck, "Sam, you are mine. You hear me? Mine."

She was his from the moment she had volunteered to help Steve search for him; a person she did not know, aside from what Steve had told her and what she read in history books about him. That alone sealed her fate from the start. Bucky claiming her was just an added bonus. 

 

Chapter Text

It was a 'wrong place, wrong time' kind of situation. Sam was not even supposed to be at work that day, but another waitress had a family emergency and could not make it and knowing that Sam was a hard worker and needed the money, she recommended Sam to take her night shift at the diner.

Sam already buried in school work, with papers due and exams right around the corner but also short on cash, jumped at the chance for an extra shift and extra money.

That is why she was there, that fateful night and that damning time when if only she was a few seconds slower in exiting through the back door of the diner which led to the alleyway to throw out the garbage, she would not have seen what she had and would not be in the current situation in which she was now trapped. 

 

FLASHBACK

It was nearing the end of Sam's extra shift, when she hefted the large bag of garbage and went out through the backdoor.

"Need a hand with that Sammy Girl?" Joe, the owner of 'Alice's Diner' asked.

"Nah, I got this. Thanks though." She answered as the door swung close. 


 

Looking back on that night, even though Sam regrets being a witness to the horrific event, she was glad that it was her and not Joe, because if it was the kind owner who took one look at the down on her luck girl and hired her on the spot, then he would have been silenced permanently.


 

Sam had just slammed shut the cover of the large garbage bin when she heard a scuffle around the corner of the of the building. Thinking it was the local teenage hoodlums again, she began walking towards the sound, knowing that they would break up any fights once they saw her. For some reason, the local gang members respected her and apparently Joe told them all never to mess with his staff or customers so they never troubled her; always addressing her as 'Miss Wilson.'

As she got closer to the scuffle, she heard a voice.

"No, please no, I am begging you. I have a wife and a daughter. I cannot leave them alone. I won't tell anyone."

Sam wondered what the hell was going on and as soon as she rounded the corner, her world forever ended.

There on his knees was a man, about fifty years old, hand raised in a surrendered gesture, looking up at another man, his face pale with fear. The other man who was standing, had a gun steadily pointing it at the begging man's head. 

Sam's eyes widen at the scene and it seemed as if time had stopped; the man pulled the trigger, there was a flash of light, a spray of red from the begging man's head which painted the wall behind him as he dropped lifeless to the cold, wet ground. Sam was frozen where she was, her eyes on the dead man, until the other man shifted and her eyes snapped up to meet cold steel blue eyes staring at her.

She was stunned to see how young he looked. His hair was scraped back and done up in a bun, his face clean shaven, he seemed to be about 6' tall, taller than her measly 5'1", so she knew he could easily overpower her. He was dressed in what could have been black or dark blue jeans, but in the dim light being given off the street light she was not sure. He had on a white undershirt with a zipped up dark hoodie and over that was a black leather jacket. On his feet were black boots.

She knew that thanks to her eidetic memory, Sam would be able to pick him out of a line up, but his eyes, those cold steel blue eyes were scaring her. 

Knowing that she would be next, Sam slowly raised her hands, just like the dead man had and when the man turned so that his entire body faced her Sam took a step back. His entire body language and aura screamed predator   and Sam was a little bunny caught in his deadly stare. 

The man took a step forward, so Sam took another back. Mentally calculating if she would be able to turn, run and make it back to the safety of the inside of the diner before the man could get to her. But she thought about all the innocent people in there who might get caught in the crossfire if he came in there looking for her. 

His right hand that held the wicked looking gun moved and Sam took off running. She skidded as she turned the corner sharply, running as hard as she could pump her legs, her breathing ragged and harsh in her ear and she was almost screamed with relief when she saw the diner's back door come into view. Sam had her hand stretched out, ready to grab the handle and rip it open, only for her fingers to brush against the cold metal, before she could register that she had been grabbed from behind, a few seconds later she was aggressively slammed into the rough brick wall beside the door.

An arm was pressed against her throat, forcing her to raise her head only to look straight into chilling blue eyes.

She wanted to scream and fight, but the press of something cold and sharp against the side of her neck made her think twice about it.

They stood there, Sam with her back pressed against the cold, hard, unforgiving brick wall, with the man pressed against her, his blue eyes staring with an unmatched intensity down at her, and a deadly knife blade pressed against her vulnerable throat.

"What did you see?"

Sam flinched at the sudden sound and realised that it was the smooth dark voice of the man currently holding her at knife point. 

"What?" Her voice full of fear.

"What. Did. You. See?" The man growled.

"Nothing." Sam quickly said. 

The man chuckled darkly and the smile he gave Sam was anything but warm and friendly.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"It- it's the truth. I did not see anything." Her voice so soft, the man leaned in a bit closer so that Sam could feel his warm breath wash over her face. 

"We both know that's bullshit," he eased back and looked down at the name tag on her apron, "Sam."

Oh shit. Not only did he know where she worked, but her name as well.

"Is it short for 'Samantha'?"

Sam remained quiet.

"Answer me!" The man demanded, grabbing her by the top of her full apron to drag her away from the wall only to slam her back into it. Her head bounced off it and her hands shot up to sooth the pain.

"Ye-yes, it is." Tears were streaming down her face, both from the pain and fear.

"What is your full name?"

'What is his end game?' Sam thought as she said, "Samantha Teresa Wilson."

"Good girl. Now, let me ask again: what did you see?"

Sam knew that if she said what he wanted to hear she was as good as dead, so she lied again.

"Nothing. I swear." One of her hands dropping from the back of her head, to wrap around his wrist, hoping to loosen his unyielding grip. "Please, sir, I saw nothing. Just let me go."

The man raised an eyebrow and let out a little laugh. "We both know that you saw everything. I am sure that you could tell the police word for word what the man said. That you could describe me to a 'T' now that you have seen me up close and personal and that you would be able to pick me out of a line up."

"No! I wouldn't be able to. You look like every white guy I know. Nothing special or distinctive about you."

"Wow, you sure do know how to make a man feel special Sam." He purred her name in a sick imitation if a lover's caress, he slid the knife from her neck, up to her cheekbone so that the knife's sharp tip rested below her eye lid.

"Now, Sam, why did you lie to me?" The man asked condescendingly, as if he were speaking to a small child. 

"Because I do not want to die."

"But we all have to die sometime." 

"Please, sir-"

"Fuck." The man said breathy, "addressing me as 'sir' I am sure you're just being polite like your mother taught you to be but you have no idea what hearing you call me 'sir' is doing to me."

His words registered in Sam's fear addled brain and she recoiled, not that the brick wall behind her offered her any space. Another thought, crossed her mind, 'he is going to rape me.'

The man's smile was predatory and he pressed his lower half against her, making her feel his erection through their clothes.

"I wonder, what would you do to keep your life. Hmm?"

Sam's eyes hardened. "Kill me."

The man barked out a laugh, "well this is a sudden change."

"I would rather die than allow you to rape me."

"Rape? Who said anything about rape?"

"Well that is the only way you would get what you want from me."

The man's face turned menacing and Sam's fear immediately returned.

"I am no rapist. Believe it or not, but with a face and body," he pressed fully against Sam, her head just reaching his chest, "like mine, I do not need to rape women."

With one hand still wrapped around his wrist, Sam brought her other hand down between them to push against his chest.

"Please, I did not see anything. I swear. All I want to do is go back inside, finish my shift,"-speaking of, why the hell had Joe not come out asking what's taking her so long-"go home and continue studying for my exams."

That seemed to intrigue the man, "oh, a student? And what are you studying?"

Sam closed her eyes, a few tears escaping as she shook her head, wanting nothing more than to escape this murderer.

"Answer me." The growled in her ear.

"Molecular biophysics and biochemistry with a minor in Russian."


Looking back on that time, Sam now knew why he was asking so many questions. What he was leading up to. At the time though, she was just too overcome with fear to think about anything but getting away with her life intact. 


He whistled"well fuck, you are a smart lil' lady aren't you."

Sam was about to attempt another go at pushing the man away from her when the sound of a gun being cocked froze them both.

"Step away from her right now."

Sam almost cried in both relief and fear at the sound of Joe's stern voice. She managed to peek over the man's arm and saw that Joe had his double barrel shot gun aimed at the man's head.

The man rolled his eyes but did as told, raising his hands and dropping the knife, it clattered on the concrete of the alleyway. 

"Sam go inside and call the cops."

That was the last thing Sam wanted to do. She did not want to leave Joe out here to the mercy of a killer but she slowly started moving, inching her way across the brick building towards the back door. The man's eyes never leaving hers and when she saw the smile that crossed his lips she knew trouble was about to get to worse. 

Faster than either she or Joe could see, the man whipped around, punched Joe straight in his face, knocking him out cold before he even knew what hit him.

"Joe!" Sam made to move to his side, only to come face to face with the business end of the double barrel shot gun. She had never felt fear like what she was now feeling from looking down into the dark abyss. 

The man stared her down before he lowered the gun.

"What did you see?" He asked again.

"Nothing." Sam responded.

Seeming to understand that Sam was not going to change her answer, he opened the gun, took out the bullets, pocketed them and dropped the shot gun on the concrete. Sam watched as the man turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

Later that night after Joe regained consciousness and they both spoke to the police, Sam saying that she was too scared to register the man's appearance, she went home to her shoe-box of an apartment where she pushed her study table in front of the apartment door, placed her few metal cookware under the one window in the apartment and slept in the shower in her bathroom with the light on.

Meanwhile on the other side of town, in a luxurious penthouse, high above the city skyline, the man from before sat in front of his computer; everything he could find on one Samantha Teresa Wilson plastered across the screen. From her academic records, to her parents and brother's death certificates, to where she goes to school, to her home address, to the fact that she was barely staying afloat with all the expenses she had from being a poor orphaned university student.

It had been two months since that night, Sam had stopped looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows and felt comfortable sleeping in her bed with the lights off. She had resigned from her job at Joe's, saying that she did not feel safe there anymore, when really, she did not want the man coming back looking for her and some innocent person getting hurt because of her. Fortunately, one of her professors needed a teaching assistant and hired her after she made mention of needing a new job.

It was already night, Sam had gotten home from a long day of classes and teaching. She decided to put off studying for the night and instead took a long hot bath. She exited the shower, got dress and called it a night.

A thunderstorm had rolled into town sometime during the night and a, sharp crack of thunder had Sam flying awake in fright. She glanced out the window to see silhouettes of the trees blowing violently in the wind and the lightning bolts lighting up the dark night sky. She was about to settle back down when something in the dark corner of her extremely small apartment caught her eyes. 

Very slowly, Sam reached for the switch on her bedside lamp, her eyes never leaving the corner and when the room was bathed in the soft warm glow of light, it was if one of her many nightmares had come to life. There in the corner where her study table was, sat the man from the diner, -the killer- her mind supplied unhelpfully.

The instinct to flee kicked in instantly once the man had vacated the chair and just as she was about to scream, something metal clamped down over her mouth, effectively muffling her screams. Sam grabbed whatever it was that was like a vise over her mouth, only to discover that it was the man's hand.   Terrified brown eyes met steel blue as they stared at each other.

"Well, hello there Darlin'. Fancy meeting you here."

Sam stared in horror before her instincts kicked in. She kneed him as hard as she could in his crotch and when he reacted to the sudden pain, she was up and off the bed and in three steps she was at her apartment's door, only for a solid force to shove her into it, pinning her there.

"Well now, that wasn't real nice darlin'." That cold, cruel, mocking voice said in her ear. "After I came all this way to visit you."

"How did you find me?!" Sam was terrified. "What do you want?!" She tried using her hands to brace against the door to push him off her but to no avail, she was effectively pinned to the door until her saw fit to release her.

"Just to chat." He said in her ear. "I am going to release you; are you going to try to fight or escape?"

She shook her head.

"Use your words Sam."

"No." Her voice was small and watery.

The man eased his muscular bulk off her smaller body and she dragged in a deep breath of air, slowly turning until she was facing him, her back pressed against the door. With the man being so tall and still so close to her, Sam had to crane her head back just to meet his eyes. They were the same steel blue as that night two months ago, but here, in her apartment, they looked warm but Sam knew it was just a trick of the lamplight.

"What-" her voice broke and she had to clear her throat and begin again, "what do you want?"

His eyes roamed over her face searching for something; Sam was not sure what.

Sam flinched violently when he spoke and he smiled cruelly.

"As I said before, I just want to chat." He made it sound as if it was a cordial visit. "How about we go and sit?" Sam wanted to laugh, that was not a suggestion; it was a command.

She nodded her head, "ok."

The man stepped back and to the side so that Sam could walk pass him. She went and sat on her bed, grabbing to pillow to hold against herself, as if that could protect her. The man, thankfully grabbed her study chair and brought it to the side of the bed closest to where she was. He turned it around, straddling it so that his arms were braced against the back, the same gun Sam noticed from the night when she saw what she should not have glinting in the soft light when he crossed his arms.

"To answer your first question." Her eyes shot up from the gun to his. "In this day of modern technology, it is not difficult to find someone. You're a smart girl," to Sam, that little comment sounded like a big insult, "I had your full name, where you worked and what you were studying in school. Using that information, it was not hard narrowing down my search."

Sam remembered him asking all those questions and it dawned on her to he had not forgotten about her; he was just simply biding his time. She had fallen into a false sense of security, thinking that he did considering that he did not come back for her immediately. 

"How did it feel?" His question brought her out of her musings. He was looking at her; his facial expression one of opening mocking.

"How did what feel?" She was confused.

"Thinking that you were safe that you were finally able to start sleeping in your bed again with the lights off?"

Sam felt her blood run cold at those words. He had been watching her all this time. He knew where she was all this time, just watching her. What for?

"You should ask yourself, 'I wonder if he was every in my apartment while I was out? While I was showering? While I was sleeping?'"

"You said that you wanted to chat." Her mind was racing and she felt sick from the terror coursing through her body.

"I do." The man sat up, resting his gun on the bed, causing Sam to draw her knees up to her chest as he took off his leather jacket and threw it down by the foot of her bed. "I need to get comfortable, because this is going to be a lengthy chat." He explained then tilted his head, looking off to the side before he looked back at her, a sly smile on his face, "or maybe not, considering who holds all the power here."

He was playing with her; taunting her with her own helplessness.

"I watched you Sam. For two whole months, I watched your every waking moment and not once did you make any attempt at informing anyone about what you had seen."

"I told you that I did not see anything." Sam spoke up.

The man laughed, "and we both know that is bullshit. I know that you do not want to die, that is the only reason why you have remained silent."

Sam did not say anything because that was the plain and simple truth.

"However, you saw something you were not meant to see and yes, you have remained silent for two months, but for how long will you stay silent? A year? Ten years? Twenty years?"

"To my grave." Sam said resolutely.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong Sam." The man got up and smoothly spun the chair around so that he could sit on it properly, bracing his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, effectively bringing himself closer to Sam. "You are a good person and sooner or later, this terrible secret that you are keeping to save your own life will begin to eat at you, and at some point, it will become too much for you to bear anymore and next I will know is that my face will be plastered across all the television screens from here to fucking Canada."

Sam was shaking her head.

"Stop that, you're making me dizzy." 

She immediately did as told.

"However, I have a solution if ever that day should come."

She was scared to ask but she had to know. "What?"

"Spousal Privilege."

Sam blinked. "What?"

The man rolled his eyes, "spousal privilege. Long story short, you won't be able to testify against me."

"But, but," Sam's mind was again reeling, "we are not married."

"Yet."

His meaning registered in her brain and Sam almost ran for the door again.

"Your solution to keeping me quiet is to marry me?"

"Yes." The man answered as if it were that simple. "That way I can keep an eye on you."

"And if I refuse."

That cold, menacing, killer look from the first night they met was back and he slowly got up from the chair, took up his gun and using one hand, he braced himself against the headboard of her bed so that he could loom over her, the other pressed the gun in the underside of her jaw when she raised her head to look up at him.

"Then I will drag you to 'Alice's diner' with me and make you watch as I slaughter everyone in there."

Sam's heart stopped beating at his promise; not threat but promise.

"And I would leave you alive, so that the knowledge that you could have kept them safe but didn't will stay with you for the rest of your life."

Tears began streaming down her face and he moved to wipe them away.

"Do not touch me!" She hissed, scrambling back on the bed, away from him and using her blanket to dry her face. The man sat down at the edge of the bed, his steel blue eyes watching her.

The room was silent for a few tense minutes before he started speaking again.

"This solution would not only benefit me."

"No, shit." Sam snapped, anger at being trapped in a no escape situation overtaking the fear she felt a few seconds before. "You get to keep an eye on me, make sure I remain silent and I get to keep my life."

The man smiled and to Sam if she looked closely it almost seemed real and kind but she refused to do so.

He shook his head, "no, I meant financial wise."

Sam looked at him and he sighed.

"I looked into your finances and I can see that you are not doing too good for yourself."

"That is none of your business."

"Well I am making it mine." The man snapped and Sam scooted back some more. "Your parents died in a car accident when you were fifteen, leaving your older brother Riley-"

"Do not say his name." 

The man continued as if he did not hear her, "to take care of you. They had no life insurance, so he had to work three jobs to take care of you both."

It hurt Sam to remember all her brother went through, becoming a parent at the age of eighteen when he should have started living.

"Only for him to be killed in a robbery at the convenience store where he worked three months after you turned eighteen."

The tears started again and Sam sobbed, remembering that he was only working that shift so that he would have the day of her high school graduation free. He was so damn ecstatic that she had gotten into Yale University with a full-ride scholarship and wanted to celebrate, but fate had other plans for them.

"Again, he had no life insurance so you were left on your own. The scholarship money is good but not enough to sustain you. What you pay in rent, light, water, heating, food and what other expenses you may have, I can give you that as an allowance per week." He let that sink in and Sam slowly met his eyes.

"Marry me, so that I will have the advantage of spousal privilege and you will be well taken care of."

If this offer was made for another reason other than using it to keep her mouth shut about a murder she witnessed, Sam would have jumped at it, but she knew her family would have wanted her stick to her morals rather than compromise her integrity.

Her gaze was unwavering as she spoke. "Go to hell."

Sam had no idea how the man moved so fast. She saw his expression changed from neutral to one of red hot anger and then she was suddenly on her back, staring up at the fire raging in those blue eyes, the barrel of his gun almost touching the lashes of her left eye, his weight bearing down on her.

"Ok, let me put it this way. You are going to fucking marry me. You have no say in this; I am telling you."

"No." Her voice was small but strong.

There was a deafening crack in the small apartment and Sam's ear was ringing. She wondered what it was then realised that there was smoke rising from a hole in the mattress right beside her head, as well as from the barrel of the gun.

"The next one goes between your eyes." The man said coldly. "You will marry me."

Sam wanted so badly to defy him, but her fear and desire to live was greater and so she sold her soul to the devil.

"I will marry you."

"Great." The weight on her disappeared as the man got up, and slid his jacket back on. She remained where she was, listening as he moved around. "Have your shit packed by four o'clock tomorrow. I will be coming back to get you."

She listened as he opened the door and closed it. The ensuing silence was like a hand around her throat choking her and Sam rolled over, pressed her face into a pillow, opened her mouth and screamed as hard as she could. 

 

Chapter Text

To say Brock had had a bad day would have been the fucking understatement of the year. After three years of stakeouts, high risk undercover missions that put his best agent, Natasha in the hospital for three weeks, after countless hours of pouring over video tapes, recordings, pictures no matter how grainy, after three years of hunting the illusive Winter Soldier he and his team finally had the fucker cornered, only for it to all come crashing down like a wooden house on fire when they walked right into a trap.

Once the dust had settled, he found out that his right hand man, Steve Rogers, was a mole the entire time, working with the Winter Soldier. Brock had never felt so betrayed before or angry. His commanding officer, Nicky Fury sent him and his team home to lick their wounds and then they would regroup two days later to start a new man hunt.

That is why at 3:30 p.m. he walked into his house, when he would normally walk in well past 10:00 p.m. his daughter already asleep with a note taped to his bedroom mirror, informing him that dinner was in the fridge and to have sweet dreams.

Brock couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how ecstatic Sam would be to see him home much earlier. His sour mood was getting a little bit better just thinking of all the things they could do together. Maybe go eat dinner, or see a movie, or see a movie and then get dinner, or stay home, order pizza and watch a movie. He was a bit confused, however, when he walked into the living room, to see Sam’s backpack another one that he had never seen before, along with a green plaid shirt thrown over it.

He went over to where the items were, took a closer look and realised that the shirt belonged to a male. Brock looked around, there were no signs of his daughter save for her backpack. He listened closely but heard no sound.

“Sam?” He called out cautiously, hand on his gun as he slowly went from room to room, looking in them and still not finding his daughter. Looking at the stairs, the only place to look was up. Brock, with his gun in hand, began making his way upstairs. When he got to second floor landing that is when he heard it. That quiet, pleasure sigh.

Brock went deadly still, his mind racing a mild a minute, knowing that his fourteen-year-old daughter was not doing what he thinks she was. That is when he remembered the male clothing and the other backpack downstairs. Silently, Brock walked towards the only room door painted in royal blue and slowly opened it a crack to look in and what he saw made him want to shoot something.

His dark mood instantly returned as he saw his extremely underaged daughter, on her bed with some strange boy he had never met lying on top of her shirtless. Sam was lying on her back, her legs spread to accommodate the boy’s slim hips that were slowly grinding against her. They were locked in a slow, heated kiss. Her skirt was rucked up enough that Brock could see her blue bikini underwear from his place at the door. Her hands were running up and down his smooth, unmarred, slightly muscular back, and his hand, his hand was under Sam’s blouse, slowly moving and Brock knew exactly what he was doing.

Seeing nothing but red, Brock savagely flung the door open, not caring that it violently banged into the door, more than likely leaving a mark in the wall. The only thing he cared about were the two teenagers who jumped apart at the sudden unexpected noise, looking like a pair of deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Brock saw the exact moment Sam registered who had made that noise.

“Shit! Daddy!” She shot up off the bed into a sitting position, shoving the boy off her so that he fell to the floor on the other side of the bed. He raised an eyebrow, well that was new; he had never heard Sam curse before.

She was fixing her clothes, trying to save what little dignity she had left, but it made no difference he had seen it all. He only cared about the boy that was slowly getting up, looking pale as he eyed Brock.

Brock walked into Sam’s room, gun still in his hand, resting by his thigh and knew the picture he painted.

“Daddy?” No doubt Sam saw it as well, and from the tremor in her voice, she was scared that her father was going to murder whoever this fucking piece of shit was for putting his hands on Sam. Upon closer inspection, Brock saw that the boy looked much older than Sam.

“Tell me something young man.” Brock addressed Riley calmly and Sam’s eyes widened, knowing they were in deep shit.

“Yes sir?” The boy would not look at him, one arm was across his chest, the other at his side, gripping his jeans pants.

“Just how old are you?”

The boy’s eyes snapped to Sam and Brock snapped his fingers, causing them both to jump.

“I asked you a question son.”

He took feral joy in seeing the boy gulp in fear, his green eyes wide.

“Six-sixteen sir.”

Brock nodded, “so, let me get this straight. You though it would have been a good idea to have sex with a fourteen-year-old girl? To have sex with a minor who just so happens to be my daughter?”

“Daddy, we were not having se-“

“Shut up Sam!” Brock roared and the room felt silent. He had never raised his voice at Sam before, that was a first, but he felt all his anger bubbling up. First from the failed mission and the betrayal and then coming home only to find his underage daughter on her back with her legs spread for some guy two years older than her like some common whore and he felt his blood boil.

The sound of Brock’s gun being cocked was loud in the spacious bedroom and if possible, the boy became even paler.

“Now, before I pump you full of lead.”

The boy’s eyes snapped back up to Brock and he could almost smell the fear coming from him, or it was possible that he had pissed or shitted himself.

“May I know the name of the boy who was just dry humping my underage daughter?”

The boy looked back at Sam, who looked just as scared.

“Hey!” Brock snapped, “quit looking at her and look at me. I asked you a question. Now, unless you want me to shoot you, then call the cops, and make a report that I came home to you trying to rape my child, you will answer my fucking question!” He roared.

“Daddy! He was not-”

Brock’s eyes snapped down to Sam. “I said SHUT UP!

Sam flinched violently, the boy making an aborted movement to touch her, only to draw back when Brock turned his ferocious gaze on him.

“Child,” he addressed Sam, his eyes never leaving the teenage boy, “you are just in as much trouble as your friend is, so it would be best for you to keep your mouth shut.” Sam did as told, folding her lips, her eyes downcast and head turned away from the boy.

“Your name now.”

“Riley, sir.”

“Riley.” Brock looked him up and down, taking in the bruises on his pale, white neck. His hand grabbing Sam’s chin before he even knew what he was doing, causing her to yelp in surprise as he turned her head up and to the side, similar bruises on her neck. Letting go Brock once more turned his eyes to Riley.

“You,” he pointed his gun at Riley, whose eyes widened, Sam wisely did not say a word but she was hyperventilating. “Have five seconds to get the fuck out of my house before I kill you.”

“Five.” Brock began the count down.

In the blink of an eye, Riley had raced from around the side of Sam’s bed, he flew pass Brock, out the bedroom door, his footsteps could be heard running down the hallway and then the stairs.

“Four.”

Sam shared a look with her pissed off father before she too was up and off her bed, running the same path Riley just ran.

“Three.” Brock walked out the of room calmly.

“Riley!” Sam screamed from the top of the stairs as she ran. “Leave your backpack! I will get it to you tomorrow!” She bare feet hitting the carpeted stairs as Brock heard the front door open.

“Two.”

The door slammed shut, rattling a few picture frames on the wall as Brock’s feet hit the last step and Sam slammed herself to it, turning around so that her back was pressed to it, her arms flung out to the side.

Brock looked at her, as if she could prevent him from flinging that door open and putting a bullet in the back of Riley’s head as he ran.

“One.” He finished his countdown coolly, eyeing his daughter up and down.

Father and daughter stared at each for a long moment, neither one moving, the encompassing silence only broken by Sam’s harsh panting.

“I suggest you drink some water before you start coughing.” Brock said as he put the safety on his gun and holstered it. He turned away, about to make his way somewhere away from his daughter for the time being until he cooled down.

“Why?”

He turned back to her. “What?”

“Why did you have to do that?” Sam looked stricken.

Brock turned fully to look at is daughter, “are you really asking why I threatened a sixteen-year-old boy who I came home to find have clothed sex with my fourteen-year-old daughter? Are you really asking me that Samantha?”

“We were not having sex!” Sam screamed at her father.

“Not yet, you weren’t. Only God knows what I would have come home to if I had come home ten minutes later. Hell, I might not have even known that someone had statutory raped you, if I had not come home.”

“Riley would never rape me! He would never do something like that!”

Brock remembered Steve’s betrayal and his face darkened with anger Sam thought was directed at her from the way she pressed herself into the door, her eyes wide with fear.

“Never say never Sam; it’s the people closest to you who do the most damage.”

“Not Riley and besides, it’s not rape if I want it.” Sam shrugged so flippantly that Brock felt his restrain snap.

In an instant, he was in her space, his fist grabbing her arm, dragging her away from the door, his other hand snapped out and slapped her hard across her face. Had he not had a grip on her, she would have fallen to the floor from the force of his assault.

“Daddy!” She wailed, her hands covering her cheek as if that could take away the sharp stinging sensation in her cheek.

“Listen here and listen well child,” he tightened his hold on her arm to the point where he knew she was going to bruise. “I have never laid my hand on you,” he stared in her fear filled dark brown eyes, tears running down her face. “So, do not make this be the day that I beat the black out of you. Do you hear me.”

Sam nodded.

“I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Brock released her and she rocked back a little, trying to regain her bearings.

“I will be getting someone to stay with you from now on when I am not here.”

“Dad- “

“Do not argue with me.” Brock warned. “I am barely restraining myself from hunting down that piece of shit and painfully castrating him.”

“Do not call him that!” Sam was angry, “he has a name; it’s ‘Riley.’”

“Well his new name is ‘dead if I see him again.’”

“Why do you have to be such an asshole about this.”

“Watch your language child.” Brock pointed in her face, the warning loud and clear in his voice, but Sam ignored him, even going as far as to bat his hand away from her.

“Mommy never would have acted like this.”

Brock regretted his next choice of words as soon as they were free of his mouth. “Well tough shit since, she’s dead.”

It was as if all sounds ceased to exist as Sam looked at him in shock, her bottom lip quivering and Brock felt like dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“Sam, honey I am so sor-“

“I wanted it.”

Brock’s face shifted from one of remorse to confusion, “huh? Wanted what?”

“To know what it felt like.” She stared up at her father, defiance blazing in her eyes. “I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone, to be pressed up against him.”

Understanding dawned on Brock as he looked at his daughter in a new light.

“Everything you saw up there I instigated, not Riley. In fact, he did not want to do anything but homework. I pushed and pushed and pushed until he finally gave in. I just wanted to know what it felt like daddy. It wasn’t going to go any further than touching.”

Something in Brock broke and he felt something dark release within him as he looked in his daughter’s brown doe eyes. He looked her up and down, taking in her tank top and the fact that she did not have on a bra under it, her knee length blue pleated skirt that up to five minutes ago, was rucked up around her waist, showing off her choice of underwear as well as her smooth untouched mocha skin.

Brock felt the events of the day catching up with him and hearing that admission come from his daughter’s mouth; from the child he had to raise by himself for the past six years who he thought he knew, well, if Brock was to stand trial for the horrible act he committed during the next ten minutes, he would have said that it was a moment of insanity that made him do it.

“Well, then sweetheart.” Brock slid off his jacket, tossing it on the hallway table and then his shoulder holster. “If you want to know what it feels like to be fucked, then who better to show you than your daddy?”

Sam shrank back a hearing those words and Brock was high with the knowledge that he was putting the fear of God in her.

“Where are you going baby girl?” He walked towards her as she backed up.

Her eyes were wide and terrified. “Da-daddy what are you saying?”

Brock stripped off his shirt, bearing his chest to his young daughter. “You said you wanted to know what it feels like.” A voice was screaming at the back of his head to stop this; that he had gone too far, a voice that sounded an awful lot like his dead wife which he ignore. “Why are you running scared now Sammy girl?”

“Because you are scaring me daddy!” Sam wailed, almost tripping over her own feet from walking backwards, her eyes never leaving Brock. “What you are saying is wrong.”

“But you wanted this remember.”

Sam shook her head violently, “not with you!”

“Not with me, but you will let some older boy shove his hand down your panties to feel how wet you are.”

“Stop talking to me like that.”

Brock laughed darkly, seeing that their little game of cat and mouse took them back to the hallway by the stairs.

“You wanted to do adult things Sam, so guess what, you will hear adult words.”

“You’re scaring, I want my mommy.” Sam said before all hell broke loose.

She turned to run, with the intentions to escape whatever madness had overtaken her father, but Brock lunged grabbing her, his arms wrapping around her slim body, trapping her arms at her side, he lifted her off the ground.

“No! Put me down!” Sam screamed and struggled against her father’s hold.

“No, can do baby girl.” He replied, as he walked towards the living room. “You wanted this.”

Sam screamed and struggled, scared that she was to become a statistic, like those children she heard about on the news who parents did awful things to them, when they were supposed to love and protect them. Determined not to have that happen to her, she flung her head back as hard as he could, striking her father in his nose. There was no crunch to show that she had broken it, but it was enough for him to release her and she made her escape, planning to run to her room and call Aunty Natasha.

Her fingers barely touched the bannister when Brock grabbed her by the back of her tank top, pulled her back and threw her to the floor, effectively tearing her top from the force. Before Sam had a chance to regain her bearings, Brock straddled her back, his weight pressing her into the cold, unforgiving hardness of the hardwood floors.

 Brock too far gone, ran his hands up her smooth thighs, pushing up her skirt to expose her underwear covered bottom. He squeezed it and Sam wailed.

“Well, Sammy Girl, with a tight ass like this, I can see why your friend gave into your pleas.”

Sam hiccupped, tears running down her face, dripping from her chin to wet the floor. “Please, don’t daddy. I don’t want this.”

Brock paid her no mind as he began tugging down her underwear, revealing her bubble butt, running his hands over it. “Running around in these short skirts. I bet you flipped them up and flashed your ass at the boys, teasing them.”

“No!” Sam began fighting again, “get off me!”

He raised up on his knees, flipping Sam over on her back before ripping her panty off her entirely, showing her intimate virgin area to him. “Tell me darling, did your friend touch you here?” Brock touch her between her legs.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut tight, turning her head away from him as she felt her father touch her in a way daddies were never to touch their daughters.

“No?” Brock removed his hand from her, to unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his pants. He removed his hard cock from his boxers. “Good, and sweetheart.” He bent down to speak in her ear, “this is not going to be pleasant.”

He parted her legs further with his knees and drove into her small, untouched and unprepared body. A scream ripped its way from Sam’s throat, a fresh wave of tears running down her face as Brock tore into her body.

Sam found the strength to beat him with her tiny fists, but it did her no good.

Brock pulled out of her, just the tip of his cock remaining in her before thrusting back in with an unforgivable force. He set a punishing pace and all Sam could do was scream and cry, her hands covering her face as she felt pain rush throughout her body and felt sick with it.

Lost in the haze of anger, Brock paid no mind to his daughter’s cries, not caring that he was hurting her in the worst way a parent could ever hurt their child. All he could feel was the tight heat surrounding him and he felt when his orgasm tore through him, spilling his seed into Sam’s virgin womb.

It was after, when he had removed himself from her, when the rage clouding his vision did Brock come back to his senses to find his fourteen-year-old daughter, curled up on her side, her face turned away from him as she silently cried. Her skirt rucked up around her waist, showing bruises on her thighs, along with a mixture of semen and blood staining them and the floor on which she laid.

Brock looked down and saw that his soft cock was hanging out of his pants and immediately felt sick with himself. He wanted to castrate himself with a dull rusty machete. He looked back to Sam who had not moved yet.

“Sam-”

She flinched violently at the call of her name and Brock wanted to kill himself.

“Sam, we need to get you cleaned up.”

She was shaking and Brock got up, tucked himself back into his pants before walking over to her and as gently as her could, he pulled her skirt down, and with one hand behind her back and the other under her knees, he lifted her up.

“Don’t.” She said quietly.

“What?”

“Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Oh God, Sam, I am so, so very sorry.”

He carried her upstairs where he left her in the bathroom to clean up while he did the same. When he was finished he went back to her room, where the shower was still running.

“Sam?”

“Yes, daddy?” Her voice sounded dead, devoid of the sunshine that he could hear in it every time she spoke and he knew that his wife was turning in her grave and that hell was waiting on him when he died.

“Nothing, just checking.”

“Ok.”

Brock quickly changed her sheet and was just finished putting her favourite stuffed toy back on the bed when he heard the shower turn off and the shower curtain being pulled back. He made a hasty retreat from her bedroom, knowing that she would not want to see him right this moment, probably never again.


 

Morning came to soon for Brock and with it, the memories from the previous day and the heinous crime he committed. Rolling out of bed he made his way into the cold hallway, shivering at the temperature. Stopping by Sam’s closed door, he tried to open it only to discover that it was locked. Sighing, Brock resigned himself to finding out later if she was still in her room and had ran away. But first he needed coffee and to beat himself to death with a frying pan.

Thirty minutes later, Sam came down to the kitchen, wearing one of her mother’s old university sweat shirt and a pair of pyjama pants, with the print ‘Troublemaker’ written all over it, that Steve had given her one Christmas and Brock and to restrain himself from ripping them off her, remembering how he had played them all, how he had played him.

He watched as she walked passed him, not greeting him, not looking at him to the breakfast table by the window. She gingerly sat down, wincing as she did so and Brock felt like shit for what he had done to his baby girl. Where did they go from here?

Grabbing her favourite cereal and bowl, he walked over to the table, placing the items down in front of her before going back to the kitchen island to get his coffee. Brock settled in the chair across from her, keeping his eyes on the newspaper he was reading and not on Sam who would not look at him.

Fifteen minutes had gone by and Sam had two bowls of cereal to match Brock’s two cups of coffee before he broke the silence.

“Listen, Sam, about yesterday, I am sorry about what happened.”

He was shocked when Sam made eye contact with him, “why?” Her voice was hoarse, from screaming and crying and begging. “You caught me in my room with a boy. You had all rights to punish me.”

“Fucking hell, Sam.” Brock felt sick to his stomach. Did he really mess up his daughter that much, that she thought him raping her was a justified punishment? “Sam, no what I did was extremely wrong. You have to know that.”

“So, grounding me was wrong?”

A metaphorical record scratched in Brock’s head. “What? What are you talking about?”

Sam, placed her spoon in its bowl, folding her hand on the table, she looked at Brock with resolve in her eyes. “You caught me with a boy in my room yesterday and you grounded me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Brock tried to get a read on her when understanding finally dawned on him; she was denying everything that had happened. “Sam, that-“

Nothing happened.” She stressed and he saw tears form in her eyes. “I am grounded end of story, nothing more to it.”

Brock wanted to die.

He wanted to die such a horrible death for what he had done to Sam and for what she was doing right now; denying that her rape by the hands of her father ever happened.

And most of all, he wanted to die for agreeing to it. “Ok Sam, I grounded you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Chapter Text

Sam stared in well concealed horror as her co-worker, Dr. Bruce Banner showed her the video that had captured her saving the life of another colleague, Bucky Barnes, two nights ago.

The title of the video was: DR. SAMANTHA O'RILEY, TRAUMA SURGEON, IN ACTION, showing her face clear as day, without one pixel out of place. The video showed the aftermath of a horrible car accident and Sam pulling Bucky from what used to be his truck. It showed her saving not only his life but his left arm as well, which he sorely needed considering he was the only paediatric cardiologist in their small town.

The video already had over ten million views, with people in the comments hailing Sam as a hero. She read some of the comments, her heart stopping when she read a one specific comment: "С любовью от России." She wanted to vomit right there in the corridor of their small-town hospital. Two years of staying safe, of starting over. Two years of staying off the radar and just because she was doing her job, those two years were all for naught, thanks to this damning video.

The video was captured and uploaded by Peter Parker-Stark, 15 years old genius child of Tony Stark, the town's billionaire. Peter had no idea what how badly he fucked up Sam's new-found life the moment he decided to make that video and worse upload it to the internet for the world to see. For him to see.

No, Sam did not blame Peter for this. She knew that sooner or later, she would have to run; she just did not know it would have been so soon. Two years ago, she had fled the country she had thought of as her second home. Changing her name and returning to the States, seeking refuge in the town where her best friend was born and raised. Riley was the only person who knew the truth about Sam. Why one day she just turned up out of nowhere, why she did not have a social media account, or wanted her picture taken, why she kept to herself a lot and hardly attended the town's social functions. Why she steered clear of the town's bachelors namely, Bucky Barnes, Brock Rumlow - a sheriff's deputy and Jack Rollins - a school teacher; all of whom showed interest in Sam. 

Riley was the person who knew her most deadly secret; he was the one who had helped set her up with her new identity, telling her that it was safer to use some truths than to make up a completely new story. However, fate was not finished with screwing Sam over and decided that Riley was to die a young and sudden death. He had a stroke while showering, fell, hit his head and died from the complications that arose from all those external factors. That was four months ago, and Sam thought her life could not get any worse; well fate showed her didn't it.

It was the end of a long day and Sam rushed out of the hospital, across the parking lot and towards her car. She had to leave, she had to get out of town that same day. She needed to get home, pack the essentials, hit the road and put as many miles between her and the small town of Water Falls. She was cursing that she had lost a whole day, but she could not leave because over sixty elementary school children were brought into the hospital with severe food poisoning, in addition to twenty high school students who were injured in a science experiment gone wrong. 

Sam had to constantly remind herself not to speed, the last thing she needed was Sheriff Steve Rogers, with his puppy dog eyes and Adonis body stopping her to find out if she was ok. 

She managed to make it back home in five minutes, without incident and as she got out of the car, her head was swivelling, looking to see if he was going to jump out of the rose bushes that lined the walkway towards her front door. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. The street was quiet, a bit too quiet for Sam's liking, because when things got too quiet, it meant that shit was about to hit the fan.

Sam kept her eyes out as she opened the front door, knowing that it would take quite some time for him to get to where she was, because he was half way across the world, at least she hoped so. It had been two years, since she last spoke to him, so he could have been anywhere; just hopefully not here. She got the front door open and dashed into the house, slamming the door behind her and locking it with the two dead bolts she had installed at the top and bottom of the door.

When that was done, she went to her bedroom, going straight for an area in the far corner and got down on her knees, removing the floorboards to reveal three different passports, all with her picture but different names, not to mention over one hundred thousand dollars in cold hard cash. Grabbing those and throwing them into a backpack, next were some clothes, underwear, socks and toiletries. Sam grabbed the letters that she had prepared since her first day as the town's new Trauma surgeon, resigning with immediate effect; that one went to Dr. Natasha Romanoff-Stark and another to Steve asking him to apologise on her behalf for skipping out on the people she slowly but surely came to know and care for over the two years she spent there. She left them on her bed, where she knew they would be found. 

With that done, Sam grabbed her back, took one last look around her bedroom and walked out. She had just entered the hallway when she sensed a change in the normally warm atmosphere of her home and knew that it is too late. He had found her.

It is especially confirmed when he stepped into her line of sight. He stood between her and the front door; the still locked front door, his dark green eyes focused on her, and a scowl on his face and Sam knew she was fucked.

"Kirill." She breathed, taking a step back.

"Samantha." It had been so long since Sam heard that deep accented Russian voice.


Sam was ten years old when she first visited Russia. Upon landing she instantly felt in love with the country. She loved the place, the rich culture, the language which she became fluent in by the time she was twelve.


Upon hearing his voice, Sam instinctively took a step back; something Kirill noticed, and he scowled even harder if that was even possible.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Sam's mind was racing, thinking of some way of getting out of the house and away from the man standing before her. 

"Do not step back away from me and stop looking at me with fear in your eyes." 

Sam swallowed.

"Why do you look at me with fear?" Kirill sounded hurt. "Have I ever done or said anything to cause you to be afraid of me?"

She averted her eyes. No, you never did. It's what I found that caused me to flee. She thought bitterly.

"Answer me Samantha."

Kirill was the only person to ever call her by her full name, not even her own parents who named her did so and any time he called her, she wanted to run to him. But not this time, not when she knows the truth.

"Please."

Her eyes snapped back to his. She had never heard him beg. Not once in the time they had shared with each other. He always had this calm commanding presence about him. It was something she noticed the first night she met him.


Sam is eighteen when she meets the man she will marry.

It was three months into Sam's medical school career, she was at the top of her class and thriving in her second home country. The time was nearing mid-night one Friday night, and Sam's eyes were feeling grainy from studying, yet she was feeling too restless to go to sleep. Deciding the best way to expend some of her restlessness energy was to do something, Sam donned what she called her 'Russian cold wear' and went out to buy some groceries at the store around the corner from her apartment.

The gentleman who owned the store, Mr. Orlovis, knew Sam on a first name basis and greeted her when she walked through the door. Sam smiled and waved, grabbing a basket she went down the aisle that led to the ice cream. She stood in front of the freezer, searching for her favourite brand when she found it; on the highest shelf.

"Well fuck." 

Sam was just 5'1" and knew that no matter how much she stretched, her finger tips would not even brush the edge of the shelf itself. Looking around, Sam saw that Mr. Orlovis was no longer at the cashier, more than likely having gone to the stock room and she was currently the only customer in the store. She sighed in annoyance, resigning herself to getting the ice cream last when Mr. Orlovis came back out and could get it for her. 

She was walking pass the liquor aisle when something caught her attention from her periphery. Turning her head, she saw a tall gentleman looking at the different selections of vodka.

"Hey, you're tall." Sam said without thinking, immediately capturing the gentleman's attention. She smiled brightly as she approached him, his towering height dawning on her when she had to stop a few feet away from him so that she would not have to crane her neck all the way back just to meet his dark green eyes, that seemed to pierce her soul.

'Yes Lord, I have found the man I am going to marry.' Her brain unhelpfully supplied, it did not help that upon approaching him she could see that he was fit under the dark wash jeans, white t-shirt, black hoodie and black double-breasted pea-coat he was wearing.

"Не могли бы вы оказать мне услугу?" Sam asked in fluent Russian. "Мне нужен конкретный бренд для мороженого, но он находится на самой высокой полке, и я не могу его достичь. Вы можете получить его для меня?"

His face was blank of any expression as he looked at her, but he made a gesture Sam interpreted as 'show me' and her smile if possible got even brighter. She turned around and started walking back towards the back where the freezers were, missing the appreciative look the man gave her, a wolfish smile making its way onto his face, which suddenly disappeared when Sam turned to face him upon arriving at the freezers.

"Это, пожалуйста." Sam pointed to the brand of ice cream she wanted. 

The man looked at her, his face void of any expression and then at what she pointed to and back at her, and eyebrow raised.

"What?" Sam asked in her native tongue.

The man said nothing as he walked around her, Sam turning to see where he was going. He stopped in front of the next freezer and met her eyes. He opened the door, bent his knees a little and reached into the freezer, grabbing something from the lowest shelf and straightened back up, all while still holding her gaze. He then held out the object to Sam, showing her that it was the exact ice cream brand, flavour and size that she wanted from the high shelf. 

"Wow, would you look at that." Sam was torn between palming her face and laughing at herself. She was just damn happy that her mocha coloured skin hid her blushing, but it just gave her a headache. "I had no idea this was down there. Thank you." Sam said as she took the ice cream from the man and placed it in her basket.

"You are welcome shorty." The man said in English both surprising and arousing Sam when she heard his deep voice with a thick Russian accent. "We all should aim high." There was a teasing glint in his eyes and Sam rolled her eyes.

"Make all the jokes you want; but you tall people should watch your knees, because you never see us short people coming."

There was a hint of a smirk on the man's otherwise expressionless face and Sam could not help but wonder what he would look like should he really smile.

"Your Russian is really good." The man complimented.

"I know and thank you. I have been coming here since I was a little girl."

"And you fell in love. Cold Russian winters and all." The man said more than asked.

"Cold Russian winters and all." Sam said, smiling up at this stranger.

Just then Mr. Orlovis came out of the stock room and Sam remembered where she was. 

"I have to go. I have to get this ice cream to my freezer and get some rest before cracking open the books bright and early tomorrow again."

"You're a student?"

"A medical student."

The man's expression still not shift, but Sam could tell he was impressed.

"Well with my job, you might be treating me in the future."

Sam was intrigued, "oh, and what is your job?"

"I am in private security."

"Yup," Sam nodded her head, "definitely might be treating you. I have to go now."

The man nodded his head as Sam walked away to the cash register, paid for her stuff and then left.

It was only when Sam was putting the ice cream into her freezer that she remembered she had not gotten the man's name and she doubted that they would see each other again, because, let's face it, Moscow was a fucking huge city.


"No, you have not." Sam finally answered.

"Then why did you run?" Kirill stepped towards her and Sam stayed where she was. "Why do you look at me with such fear in your eyes?"

"You may not have done anything to me, but I know what you did to others."

A look of confusion passed over Kirill's face before it was replaced with a blank expression.

"What are you talking about?"

Sam laughed in disbelief. "Are you just playing dumb or do you really not know?"

The clenching of Kirill's jaw clued Sam in that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"What do you know?" 

Sam smiled mirthlessly, crossing her arms and walked into the living room, Kirill walking silently behind her. She went and stood by the French doors that led to her small but beautiful and well-kept backyard.

"I know that my husband was a Russian Secret Service assassin."

"When?" That one word was such a loaded question. 

"I found out two months before you left for that trip to South Africa."

Kirill's eyes narrowed, memories of that infamous job bringing back a darkness he did not want to remember. "You waited until I left the country before you ran." His voice accusing, and Sam wanted to laugh in his face. "Do you know how I felt, coming home and not finding my wife, but some fucking cowardly letter, saying that you wanted a divorce with no explanation whatsoever?"

Sam whirled on him, anger burning in her brown eyes. It was comical, the significant difference in their heights, but even Kirill was not going to mock his wife when she was this angry. He remembered the second time he met her.


Kirill was on holiday. He had just wrapped up a job and the pay-out was a king's ransom, so he figured he would enjoy some alone time. He was currently in a private booth of a friend's club, enjoying the loud, bass thumping music and the expensive liquor that he secretly still paid for even though his friend told him many times not to.

He was scanning the crowd, looking for a potential bed warmer when he saw her. The beautiful nightmare, with a smile that rivalled the brightness of the sun, who haunted his dreams and waking moments. She was dressed in skin tight leather pants that looked painted on from this distance, a red halter top that made Kirill want to run his tongue over all the exposed skin. Her hair was down, falling in a cascade of curls down her back, her face was void of any makeup, not that she needed it and her lips was curved up in a joyful smile. She was with friends, two guys and two girls and it seemed as if she was by herself; something that made Kirill extremely happy. 

They all were currently were on the dance-floor and she was drawing the attention of a few of the men around her and Kirill found himself on his feet, walking in her direction before any of those pigs could touch her. 

Her back was to him, and she was dancing to the provocative song that was blaring through the speakers. Kirill's eyes drank her in as he prowled towards her through the crowd of gyrating bodies; a predator eyeing his unsuspecting prey. When he was right behind her, Kirill gently grasped her hips and pressed the front of his body to her back. 

Kirill felt her tense a little and turned her head to see who was behind her, when she saw who it was the smile that came to her face sent a weird sort of flutter through his stomach. She immediately turned around so that they were face to face and she brought her hands up to rest on his biceps, as far as she could reach comfortably with their significant height difference; something Kirill was not going let prevent him from enjoying her body against his.

The song was still playing, and it was as if the music itself was flowing through her veins as her body moved fluidly. Kirill was not much of a dancer, preferring to sit back and watch others, but he allowed himself to feel the music, and being an assassin sometimes meant adapting to sudden changes, so he was able to move his body in time with hers. He felt as she breathed, the rise and fall of her chest as it pressed against his. He moved one of his hands from her hips up to her back and realised that she was not wearing a bra and he knew that the look on his face was one of a predator. However, she did not seem to care, from the smug smile on her lips to the way she pressed her chest to him, allowing him to feel her hard nipples through the thin material of her top and Kirill knew that if he had his way he would have fucked her on the dance floor.

They got as impossible as it sounded, even closer to each other, so much so that not even the grace of God could pass between them. He had one toned thigh between her legs and he could feel her grinding against it and he hardened even more in his pants, knowing full well that she could feel his reaction to her seduction. 

They were wrapped up in each other until Kirill noticed a guy come up behind his dance partner. She slowed down her dancing to look behind her, only to stop dancing completely and turned around fully, a look of annoyance on her face. Her back was once more pressed to Kirill's front and he kept his hands on her hips, glaring over her head at the unwanted disturbance.

The young man who interrupted them was clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Dude, I told you to fuck off from an hour ago!" 

Kirill heard her yell over the music and noticed that her friends had also stopped dancing, watching the scene unfold before them but doing nothing to intervene.

"You said you weren't dancing with anyone!" The guy yelled back.

"I said that I was not dancing with you! Now fuck off and leave me alone." She turned back to Kirill, but he saw the look of outrage on the man's face and was about set in between them, when it was as if time slowed.

He saw as the man reached out and grabbed a fist full of her beautiful, long black curls and pulled viciously, causing her body to be dragged back and for her to let out a sound of pain.

"Stuck up cunt!" He yelled, as Kirill was about to murder him right then and there, but was stopped when she viciously elbowed the man in the throat causing him to let go of her hair to grab his throat. She whipped around and punch him square in the nose, Kirill knew she had broken it from the way it was profusely bleeding and how it was now at an odd angle. He watched as she kneed him in the crotch and when he dropped to the floor, she delivered one more vicious kick to his midsection.

"No means no asshole!" 

The patrons around them clapped and cheered, but she paid them no attention as she turned back to Kirill. She pressed her body to his and got up on her tip toes, Kirill lowered his head so that she could speak into his ear.

"Want to get out of here?"

He nodded, and she signalled to her friends that she was leaving.

They exited the club to the cold Russian night, but Kirill noticed that it did not seem to bother his companion. 

"I am Sam, by the way. Samantha Wilson." The young lady introduced herself, as she walked beside him.

"Kirill." He said.

"Just Kirill?" Sam asked, a smile in her voice and Kirill saw her looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Kirill Volk."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"What makes sense?" He asked, genuinely curious. 

"The way you prowled like a wolf towards me in the club."

Kirill felt shocked that she had noticed him, but managed not to show it.

"What does that have to do with my name?"

"Volk literally means 'wolf' in Russian."


Kirill remembered very well all the moments he had with Sam since he met her. He remembered their first time together; she told him that she was a virgin, but she still wanted him to take her fast and hard and Kirill did not disappoint. He remembered waking up the next day to find Sam admiring the finger print bruises he left on her hips, arms, wrists and thighs in his bedroom mirror. 

She had left some marks of her own, his back was scratched up and there was a set of teeth marks on the junction where his shoulder met his neck. 

Right now, however, he was not remembering any of that as his wife screamed at him. He felt anger coursing through his veins, but he was not a violent man without reason and he would never hurt his wife, so he allowed her to scream, hoping that none of her neighbours heard her. 

"Do you know how I felt, having to fuck my husband knowing he was a murderer for hire?!"

"Lower your voice." Kirill hissed.

"Or what?! What will happen if I do not lower my voice Kirill?" Sam raised her hands between them and shoved at his chest, barely making him move. He stood firm. "What will you do to me if I do not lower my voice!" 

Kirill gave her an answer in the form of using his bigger body to back her into the wall, grabbing her face and lifting it to his as he lowered his head, capturing her lips in an intense kiss. 

Two years of not feeling his body against hers, of not feeling his power that he could conceal when he wanted but she never wanted it concealed when he was with her, pressed against her and Sam found herself responding to the kiss; wrapping her arms around his neck as he slid his hands down her body, feeling his wife again for the first time in two long years.

He hands circled her waist, moving down to her ass that he grabbed, bringing her more into him, making her feel his hard manhood against her stomach. When his hands drifted down further to the back of her thighs, Sam knew what he wanted and allowed herself to be lifted, her legs wrapped around his slim waist.

They were interrupted by a knocking on the front door, followed by a voice.

"Sam? Sam are you ok?"

They pulled apart.

"Shit," Sam said.

"Who is it?" Kirill asked, his eyes narrowed at the door.

"Sheriff Rogers." Sam answered, unwrapping her legs from around his waist, Kirill reluctantly putting her back on the floor. Sam moved towards the front door, unlocking and opening it to reveal a tall, blonde haired, blue eyed guy in a police uniform.

"Hey, Steve. What can I do for you?" Sam looked him up and down, noticing the bags under his eyes and their redness, not to mention the five o'clock shadow he had. Sam knew how hard the car accident affected Steve; he and Bucky had been best friends since they were in diapers and she knew that he had not slept for the two days that Bucky was unconscious for. 

"Hi Sam," his smile was tired, but still bright. "I received a call from Mrs. Cadbury, saying that she heard-" Steve stopped speaking when he caught sight of Kirill. "Good afternoon." He greeted in what Bucky had called his 'cop voice.'

"Afternoon Sheriff." Kirill greeted.

Sam felt the tension in the room sky-rocket between the two alpha males and rolled her eyes so hard, she swore she saw the back of her head. 

"Sam," Steve was speaking to her but his eyes were still on Kirill, "Mrs. Cadbury said that she heard shouting. Is everything alright here?"

"Yes, Steve. We were just having a small domestic." Sam said, giving Kirill a significant look.

Kirill snorted, small was not the word he would use to describe their exchange.

"Why don't you come in Steve." Sam moved to the side and Steve entered, his eyes none too subtly looking at Kirill from head to toe. Sam closed the door and turned to look at Steve. "Steve Rogers, this is Kirill Volk, my husband."

Steve looked at her in shock. "Husband? You never said you were married."

"Is married." Kirill said, voice clipped.

Steve side eyes him, but looked back at Sam for some sort of explanation.

"We are separated." She said, and it was not a lie; they had been separated for two years.

"However," Kirill spoke up and walked over to Sam, invading her space, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he always loved how small she was. "I am here to win her back." He stared down in her eyes as he spoke, hoping to convey that he really meant what he was saying. "I was foolish and hurt her. But now I am back to beg for her forgiveness and for another chance."

"Your accent." Steve was staring hard at Kirill, and Sam knew that look meant trouble. "I cannot place it."

"I am Russian." 

Steve nodded, "huh-uh, you have a Russian husband. I guess that makes a lot of sense why you did not give Bucky, Brock or Jack the time of day."

Sam wanted to smack Steve for saying that. Krill may not have look it and he had great control over his emotions, but he was a jealous and possessive man, not that she minded, but now Sam was going to have to explain that they were only her friends to keep her husband from hunting them down.

"How'd you two meet?"

"When I was a medical student in Russia." Sam explained, Kirill's arm still wrapped around her shoulder and much to her horror when she had shifted slightly, she felt something hard poke her in her shoulder blade, only to realise that it was Kirill's gun; he was wearing a shoulder holster and Sam wanted nothing more than to push him away, but that would have raised even more questions from Steve. "We met at a convenience store."

"And it was love at first sight." Kirill interrupted, smiling down at Sam who glared at him.

"It was not love at first sight."

"Find then," Kirill looked at Steve, a smug smile on his face, "then it was lust at first sight."

Sam elbowed him in his side, not that he felt anything and shrugged his arm from around her shoulder. "And if I knew then what I know now, I would have given you a wide berth that night."

Kirill's eyes narrowed as did Steve's as he watched them interact with each other.

"Sam, if he is bothering you I can make him leave."

"I'd like to see you try." Kirill said.

"That won't be necessary Steve and Kirill stop, he is the town's sheriff."

Steve looked between the two, before his eyes caught something. "Going somewhere Sam?"

Sam turned to see what he was looking at and saw her duffel bag, laying on the floor behind her where she had dropped it.

"Not anymore."

"Sam, can we talk in private?" Steve's eyes flickered to Kirill and back to her. 

"Steve, trust me I am good." Sam was tired, and she wanted no law enforcement anywhere near her house while her husband was there. "You can go; Kirill has never hurt me, and I am sure he's not about to start."

Steve looked ready to argue as his eyes kept flicking from Sam to Kirill and back.

"Really Steve, I am fine." Sam urged.

"Ok," he said hesitantly, "well, all the best you two, just keep it down." 

Sam bid him goodbye and watched as he got into his car and drove away, closing the door as his tail lights disappeared down the road only to immediately feel the heat of Kirill's body behind hers and she had to restrain herself from leaning back into that strong body that she loved (still loves). 

"Were you going to run again?" His voice low and dark and she felt a shiver run down her spine. 

"I knew that you would have seen that video, so I had to go before you found me." Sam turned to face him, pressing her back into the door. "But we can both see how that turned out."

Kirill brought his hands up on either side of her, effectively caging her in. "You should not have run in the first place." He growled, leaning closer to her. "You know that I would never hurt you. Ever." 

Sam could feel her senses being dulled as she inhaled the familiar scent of her husband.

"Kirill."

"No." He shook his head before pinning her to the door with his piercing green eyes. "You do not get to talk. You left me two years ago and it nearly drove me mad." His hands curled into fists on the door as he pressed his body fully against Sam's who in turned grabbed fists full of the fabric of his shirt, further anchoring them together. "I looked for you everywhere, if it had not been for your letter, I would have thought that you were dead."

Sam averted her gaze at the anguish in his eyes and voice.

"Look at me." He commanded softly, and Sam did as told, welcoming the kiss he placed on her lips. "I missed you Sam." He sealed his lips over hers once more, this kiss more demanding and desperate. Sam returned it with equal force; her arms releasing their hold on his shirt to wrap around his neck as she balanced on her tip toes, pressing her soft, lithe body against his firm, lean strength. 

Kirill's arms encircled her waist and heaved her up so that she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist. 

"I missed you Samantha. Did you miss me?"

Sam read the underlying meaning of his words and grounded herself against him. "I haven't been with anyone else in two years." She confessed, putting his mind at ease.

"I am sorry Sam." He whispered against her lips. 

"That does not make up for the fact that you are a killer."

"Former killer." Kirill corrected. 

Sam, still in his arms, pulled back to look at him; confusion clearly seen on her face.

"What?"

"I am officially retired. I no longer kill people for the Russian Government." 

"Just like that?" Sam was skeptical. "You were able to walk away from being an assassin? Isn't there going to be some sort of blow back?"

Kirill shook his head. "Niet, we took care of that."

"We?" Sam's eyes widened, "you know what put me down." She could see that Kirill was displeased with her command but did so anyway. When she was back on solid ground, Sam crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her head back to glare at her husband. "Start talking Kirill, what did you do?"

Kirill huffed out a breath. "My last assignment bested me. I thought I had killed him in India, but I apparently killed his girlfriend instead."

"You what?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper. 

"Later when it was discovered that he was alive, I was sent to kill him; but he was very resilient in staying alive." Kirill smiled a small fond smile, remembering the one foe who was on the same level as him and who offered him a second chance at life, that he grabbed with both hands. "We had a very nasty fight, that ended in a near-fatal car crash which landed me in the hospital for six months."

Sam was shocked to hear that he almost died and was in the hospital for so long, with no one around him but nurses and doctors.

"The man, Jason, he came back. I thought he was there to finish the job, but he told me that my employer was dead, he ate a bullet." Kirill laughed humourlessly. "Coward." He spat. "He then asked me what I was going to do, and I told him look for my wife. His face was priceless at the revelation that I was married. I made sure that was never in any of my files."

Sam allowed a small smile to show.

"So, he offered to help you find me?"

Kirill shrugged, "pretty much. Although you were rather hard to find. We knew you were in the States, just not sure where, until that video of you surfaced."

"That's how you got here so fast." Sam's mind was working overtime. "You were already in the country."

"I was in Montana with Jason, where he's originally from."

"How the hell did you even get in here? I locked the door." 

"I have been waiting here for you since this morning."

"What?"

"You actually drove passed me when you left for work this morning. I was sitting in the car across the road."

Sam went to look out the front window and across the road, sat a nondescript blue Toyota Corolla. Sam can honestly say that she did not see that car in her haste to get her shit and get the hell out of dodge.

"So," she spun back around to face him. "You waited for me to leave before breaking into my home?"

"Yes."

"I am going to assume you went over this place with a fine-tooth comb then."

Kirill nodded, "I did. I wanted to know about the life my wife built without me."

"And?"

"And you did quite well for yourself; building a life without me. You seem to have people who care for you."

"I do. And it is also a small town."

Kirill knew where she was going with this. "News travels fast."

"Yeah, so my foreign husband showing up out of nowhere, after two years of me being here by myself is going to spread faster than a wooden house on fire, just so you know."

"People are going to be asking a lot of questions."

"I know.” Sam moved into the living room, falling heavily on the couch, Kirill came and sat beside her, bending his knee and turning to face her, he left no room between them.

“Nothing we can do about that. We just have to be careful about how much we reveal.”

Sam laughed, the sound hollow and lacking mirth. “Yeah, we should probably keep the fact that you are -were a killer for hire to ourselves. I do not think that would go over so well with the people here.”

Kirill reached out, taking Sam’s hand in his, raising it to his lips he placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Samantha, моя любовь.”

Sam released a breathy sigh, remembering how tender Kirill was with her, as if he could break her and now she knew the reason for that.

He looked up at her, green eyes meeting brown and she felt her heart constrict at the love shining in them for her.

“Kirill-”

“I love you.” He interrupted her. “I still love you; I never stopped.”

Sam opened her mouth to respond, when the ‘Kill Bill’ theme song sounded. Sighing, Sam retrieved her phone from her pocket and answered it, within a few seconds she ended the call and rose from the couch.

“There’s a major emergency at work.” She explained as she walked into the hallway to get her jacket and handbag, Kirill right behind her. “I have to go and assist. It’s all hands-on deck.”

“Will you be coming back?”

That question stopped her in her tracks and she turned to look at her husband.

“Yes, I will return. What kind of question is that?”

“You left me two years ago. Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical.”

That was a valid argument in Sam’s opinion. “Well, I can’t really up and run right now. Not to mention, my run-away bag is right behind you and I highly doubt, you would just let me take it and run.”

“Damn right about that.” Kirill growled, “I have no intentions of letting you run again.”

“See, so I will return. I cannot give you an exact time or day, because I have no idea how bad the situation is yet.”

Kirill walked Sam to the front door, opening it for her.

“You can stay here if you do not have some place to stay in town or you can find somewhere else. It’s up to you.”

“I will wait here for your return.”

Sam nodded, and made her way to her car. Kirill standing by the front door, watching as she got into the car, reversed and drove down the road, until he could no longer see her car lights, trusting that she would stay true to her word and come back.

It wasn’t until two nights later that Sam returned to her house, tired, hungry and in need of a shower. The house was dark and quiet when she made it inside, no sign of Kirill anywhere. Slowly, she made her way upstairs and into her bedroom, where she found him asleep in her bed. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Sam went to the bathroom, stripped down and took the hottest shower that she could manage. Once she was clean and semi-feeling like a human once again, she went back to the bedroom, only this time to find Kirill awake and sitting up in bed against the headboard.

“Hi, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Sam said, as she climbed into the bed on the other side. Not once feeling weird that she was once again sharing a bed with her husband.

“I have been awake since you drove up.”

Sam laid on her side, her hand propping up her head as she looked at Kirill. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness looked at his fit upper body and felt a stirring deep within her. “Lighter sleeper or your ears just that good?”

“A bit of both.” Kirill watched as she got settled on her side and could tell from her voice just how tired she was. “Should I leave and sleep on the couch?”

“No,” she yawned, her jaw cracking. “You are already here, stay.”

Kirill nodded and slid back down the bed, so that he was laying on his back, his hands folded behind his head. “How are you doing?” He whispered, not wanting to break the quietness that had fallen over them.

“Tired. I am tired. Aside from over eighty sick or injured school kids, there was a major car accident involving four vehicles. But we managed to save everyone. No casualties.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was soft and tired. “Hey, Kirill?”

“Yes?”

“Can you hold me?” Sam licked her lips, “I had two long tiring days and I just need to be held right now; just to be reassured that I got through it.”

Before she finished speaking, two strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her to a warm, toned chest and she could not help but breathe in a scent that was all Kirill. She rested her head on his chest, hearing his heart beat.

“Anything you ask of me, I will give you. Even if it’s my own life, I will give it for you.”

Sam chuckled, “let’s not get dramatic; you just found me, let’s just take the time and see where we go from here. No need to be making such declarations.

Kirill laughed as well, “ok, Samantha.” He kissed her forehead, “sleep now.”

Sam did not know what tomorrow held for her or the man she had ran from two years ago; but right now, she would do as told and as her body and mind succumbed to some much-needed sleep, she could not help the warm feeling that was slowly reigniting within her chest.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Brock laid awake, watching as Sam slept soundly beside him in their California king bed. He still could not believe that someone as good as Sam could ever give him a chance. Could ever love someone like him.

There were days when he swore he was dreaming and would wake up to face the cruel reality that he was still all alone, working for an evil organisation, long thought to have been destroyed.

He stretched out a hand, brushing Sam’s curls away from her face, gently stroking his fingers down her cheek, and warmth blossomed in his chest when she moved further into the touch, shuffling in her sleep, closer to his body. Brock wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling how her heartbeat matched his and he smiled, placing a kiss on her hair.

“I still cannot believe that you are mine.” Brock whispered. “There are days, where I cannot believe how far we have come. Seems like yesterday, we were fighting on the 41st floor of the Triskelion.” He smiled, remembering the first time Sam told him, her side of that epic adventure.

Sighing he looked at the sleeping woman, laying in his arms and began kissing her face. He kissed her cheeks, her temple, forehead, nose, lips. He kept kissing until Sam awoke with a groan.

“Brock?” Her voice was raspy with sleep. “Are you ok?”

Brock smiled at her question. Sam had such a big heart and he was amazed that she was able to give him so much love.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He kissed her lips again and she sleepily kissed back. “I just have a question for you.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me? Or, like like me?”

There was a moment of silence before Sam rolled away from him and the room was flooded in a warm glow of light courtesy of the bedside lamp.

Sam turned back to look at him, a look a clear disbelief on her face. "Brock, it's 3:24 A.M.," she said. "Did you really wake me up just to ask if I like you or more than like you?”

Brock smiled sheepishly, “I did not mean to wake you actually. I was just overcome with the urge to kiss you; but since you woke up I figured I would just ask you. So, do you like me? Or, like like me?”

“Brock, sweetheart, darling, love, mi amour, light of my life, moon in my night sky.”

He could not help the smile that broke out on his face from the term of endearments that were falling from her lips. Something that happened when Brock showed just how dim he could be, despite being a real fucking genius.

“We have been married for ten years. How in the hell can you ask me that?” Sam spread her hands, looking utterly helpless. “I have been wearing this,” she held up her left hand, the platinum wedding band with alternating diamonds and sapphires glittering in the light, “for ten years. If that does not answer your question, then I have to speak with the person who certified you as being a freaking genius.”

“So,” the grin on his face was downright mischievous, “does that mean you like like me.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Yeah, for some reason I like like you.”

“Good to know.” He placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “A guy likes assurance from time to time, ya’ know.”

“And a girl likes her sleep from time to time, ya’ know.” Sam mocked.

“Right, sorry. Turn off the light and come cuddle with me.”

“You are insufferable Brock Rumlow.” Sam said and turned off the light, laying back down in her husband’s arms.

“Yeah, but you like like me and you married me, so that means you can bear my insufferableness.”

“Sleep Brock. Now.”

“Right.”

The couple wrapped in each other, soon began drifting off to sleep when the low sound of twin wails steadily grew louder and louder.

Sam got up, turning on the light she glared at Brock. “You get Riley and I will get Brody.”

“What?!” Brock was already up and off the bed, walking towards the door, with Sam right behind him. “You know it takes a lot to calm down Riley when he wakes at this time of night.” He complained as they entered the twins’ rooms, separating to go to the cribs at each corner of the room.

“I know.” Sam bent over the railing and took up Brody in her arms. “But since you robbed me of a few minutes of precious sleep, you get the honour of getting that one back to bed.” She smiled sweetly at Brock, loving how he looked, clad only in his sleep pants, with a six-month-old crying Riley cradled to his chest.

Brock began soothing his son, while Sam had already quieted down Brody.

“You know something,” Brock said over Riley’s crying, “I only like you.”

“Huh uh.” Sam cooed at Brody who gave her a bashful smile. “Keep telling yourself that, But I have video evidence of you trying to work up the courage, just to ask me out for coffee.”

Brock was finally able to calm down Riley and both he and his brother were places back in their respective cribs. Their tired parents heading back to their own room for much needed sleep.

Once back in bed and wrapped again around his wife, Brock whispered in her ear as he was falling asleep. “Hey, Sam?”

“Hmmm?”

“I like like you too.”

Sam smiled, “I know Brock. I have known since that day in Lagos when I helped get that malfunctioning bomb vest off you.”

Chapter Text

It had been one month since that fateful night and Sam was still not any less scared than she was before. Every day she waited for the other shoe to drop, but so far nothing happened.


Bucky stuck to his word and collected her from her ratty apartment the day after he had threatened her into marrying him. He whisked her away to his luxurious penthouse that was to become her gilded prison. The car ride had been filled with tension; Bucky sat cool as ever in the driver's seat, handling the car as if it was an extension of him, while Sam sat shotgun, heart in her throat, trying to keep from throwing up on the expensive upholstery. 

She remembered how her eyes had widened when she stepped off the private elevator and into a room that she had only dreamed of. The floors were marble and shone, the ceiling light reflecting off it. The penthouse was minimally but tastefully furnished and decorated. It was all white with chrome accents and Sam could not help, but feel as if she was in a showroom than a residence. It felt cold; befitting of the person who lived there. Bucky led her up a floating chrome and glass staircase, to the upstairs of the penthouse and down a long hallway, where there was a wall of glass on one side allowing an abundance of natural light to enter the eerily quiet place and on the other, a flawless white wall, decorated with expensive works of art. As she followed behind Bucky, Sam twisted her head, taking in the art on the wall.

"You do know that you can look at them as much as you want."

She had nearly jumped out of her skin, at hearing Bucky speak for the first time since he collected her.

"This is your home now, so you can always come back and look at them."

Sam said nothing as she walked through the door he had opened, stepping into a very lavish bedroom. The colour scheme was a mixture of beige and white, with more chrome and Sam had a passing thought that maybe Bucky was trying to keep his surroundings white since his heart was so black and his hands were stained red with blood. The bed was huge, the bedding and pillows looked oh so soft, and even though at that moment Sam wanted to be anywhere but there, in the presence of a killer who would soon be her husband in name only, she wanted to know just how soft they were. There were two beside tables on either side of the bed, on which one of the tables was a lamp.

There was a small book shelf, with a desk and chair in one corner of the room beside a set of French doors leading to a small balcony.

Bucky walked in and placed her duffel bag filled with books and her clothes on the floor by her bed. 

"Since you are a student, I got the table and bookshelf for you. There is an en-suite bathroom, there are fresh towels in the linen closet in there, as well as your favourite body wash."

At that comment Sam looked at him, fear in her eyes, remembering that he had known where she lived. Entering her apartment when she was not there (she hoped not, but knew that question would never pass her lips), invading her small, private space, letting her think that she was safe, that he had forgotten about her.

"Get that look off your face." His face had gone blank, his eyes hard. "I said that I would not hurt you."

"No, but you will force me to marry you and make me a prisoner." Sam snapped.

Bucky must not have appreciated her tone, or her back talk, because he was suddenly walking towards her, anger evident on face. Sam backpedalled, her back connecting hard with the wall as Bucky's hand slammed against it right beside her head, causing her to flinch from the sound of impact.

"Listen here and listen well." His voice low and dangerous.

Sam held her head down in fear as he towered over her small frame and he growled, grabbing her face, his thumb and fingers holding her jaw, giving her no choice but to look up at him with wide frightened brown doe eyes as he spoke.

"You are getting financial stability out of this arrangement and as for that 'prisoner' comment, if I wanted to, you would be locked up in some deep dark hole, instead of living on the top floor of a luxurious penthouse, continuing with your university education."

Bucky released his hold on her and took a step back. 

"I am going to make something to eat; feel to join me or you can help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen." Turning on his heel, Bucky walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam released the breath she was holding, sliding down to the floor as the late evening sun shone into the room.


True to his word, Bucky never laid a hand on Sam after that initial day. She came and went as she pleased, Bucky never questioning her; however, that was probably because he gave her a credit card, with the strict instructions to use that for all her spending.

Sam was not allowed to use cash at all and Bucky did not have to explain that this was his way of keeping track of her. At the end of each month, he went through her credit card statements, looking at the places she had gone; which were not much, just school, a few clothing stores and a coffee shop she visited every morning and afternoon before her first and last class for the day. The three hundred fifty dollars that she had previously spent each month before accidentally getting on his radar, Bucky gave to her as an allowance, that she lodged to the account he had set up for her each week.

In addition to money, he gifted her with the newest smart phone on the market, with strict instructions to always keep it on ‘ring’ (except in class and exams), answer when he called (if she was not in class, an exam or quiz, the only condition Sam would not budge on) and he had turned on the GPS, setting the phone so that she could not turn it off. Not that it was needed that much, considering Bucky drove her around majority of the times when he was not busy with work or doing his own thing. Those were some extremely tension filled car rides, where not even the sound of the radio could dissipate. 

Since then, Sam began driving lessons to get her driver's license, with Bucky saying that once she had it, he would buy her a car. 

Other than those moments, life was peaceful for Sam. She would be doing homework at the kitchen island or reading a book in the lazy chair by one of the many windows in the penthouse (she could only hide in her room so much) and Bucky would come back, greeting her but ignoring her otherwise. It was as if they were only roommates, which in a sense was true. 

Sam never bothered him, he never bothered her, and she was extremely grateful that he kept his work out of the penthouse; never coming back with blood on his face, his hands or in his hair like that one memorable night, two weeks into Sam's permanent stay when he returned looking like an extra out of a horror movie (she still has no idea how he was not stopped by the police for looking like that) and she promptly threw up on the living room floor. Small mercies and all that.


It had been two months since that fateful night and Sam was still not any less scared than she was before. Every day she waited for the other shoe to drop, but nothing happened.

For the first time since her family died and left her all alone, Sam was not worried about money. She was able to spend more of her time focusing on her school work and she was able to have something of a social life. She made friends with a red-haired girl by the name of Natasha and her boyfriend, a tall regal looking young man, whom rumours were swirling about that he was actual royalty, T'Challa. 

"Are you going to Clint's party on Friday?" Natasha asked while they were at lunch sitting under a large tree. "Or do you have to get home to hubby?"

The large diamond on Sam's finger gave away the fact that she was married but she had told Natasha and T'Challa a small lie that she had only married him for his money and nothing else, that seemed to calm the demands of wanting to meet her significant other.

"No, I am going. He will more than likely have to work." Sam answered distractedly, while reading from one of her many thick text books.

"Good, at least I will have another set of hands to reign in this one when she meets up with Clint." T'Challa said and Natasha flipped him off. 

Sam laughed, jumping a little when her phone started vibrating in her pocket. Taking it out, she had to resist groaning in despair when she saw 'Voldemort' flash on the screen.

"Yes?"

"Wow, what did I do after not being home for a week?" Bucky's smooth voice said over the line, laughter in it.

Sam could not help herself, "do want me to list alphabetically or chronologically?"

Bucky's voice was cold, "watch yourself Samantha. You do not want your two friends overhearing something they should not."

That warning had Sam rising to her knees, looking around the area until her eyes landed on a figure a few feet away in the parking lot across from the lawn on which they were sitting. The person raised his hand in greeting and Sam ended the call, rising to her feet, she all but ran over to Bucky.

"What are you doing here?!" She hissed, fear in her voice and eyes.

Bucky smiled down at her, his eyes hidden by aviator sunglasses. "Good to see you too love."

"Why are you here?" Sam asked again, hysteria beating out the fear in her voice.

"Because it is so fun seeing you get all riled up and bent out of shape." His smile mean and sarcastic.

Sam reared back as if he had struck her.

"Chill out Sam, I was checking in on you. I was away for a week and unable to communicate with you."

"Thank God for that."

Bucky sighed, "I have to get going now, see you later. Study hard."

He was about to turn and leave when a thought crossed her mind, "what happens when you finally get caught and killed?"

"Do not worry about that. You will be well taken care of for the rest of your life." He then walked off, leaving her there standing between two cars as he walked towards his Harley, she watched as he swung a long leg over, straddling it. He started the engine and before he drove off, blew her kiss.


Sam returned from a day of back to back classes, feeling dead on her feet only to be met with Bucky sitting in the living room with a strange lady and gentleman she had never met before.

"Good evening Sam." Bucky greeted, all smiles to which Sam did not respond, wondering what he had in store for her today. Her facial expression may have exposed her wariness as the man spoke up.

"Barnes, let's just get this over with. I am sure the young lady has better things to do than waste time in your company."

Sam had to agree with the man, but felt a boulder of dread form in her stomach when Bucky looked her up and down, knowing that whatever bomb he was going to drop was going to be catastrophic. 

"Get over here Wilson," he lazily beckoned her over, "let's make this union official."

 It was as if the world came to a crashing stop around Sam. She could feel her blood pounding in her ears and her vision was darkening around the edges.

"What?" Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.

The lady who was seated in the armchair across from Bucky, leaned back in the seat, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head at Bucky. "Look at what you did. You scared the poor girl."

"Not the first time." Bucky replied with a proud tone of voice

"You really have no idea of how to ease into things do you?" She continued as if he had not spoken. "I have no idea how the hell, you have gone all these years being a hired killer on Tony's payroll."

"Charm." Bucky flashed her a smile before turning back to Sam. "Come on Sam, the faster you sign these papers, the faster you can go lock yourself in your room."

That got Sam moving towards the sitting area.

"Sit here." Bucky patted the seat beside him, moving over slightly when Sam sat down, something she was grateful for.

"Shouldn't there be at least a judge present for this to be legal?"

Bucky pointed at the woman, "Maria Hill, attorney-at-law and Justice of the Peace, has the authority to marry us. James Rhodes, our witness for this. They know all about our little arrangement, just FYI."

Sam nodded; she felt numb, as if she was in an ice-cold bath.

Papers -legal documents- her brain registered were placed in front of her and she took them up, her hands shaking. She willed herself to calm down, just enough to process what she was reading.

Bucky draped his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against her shoulder and she leaned forward to get away from his touch. "They are just your standard marriage contract." He leaned into her space, putting a pen in her line of sight. "Just sign them."

She looked at him with as much venom as she could muster; telling him with her eyes to go fuck himself and he smiled getting the message. 

"I prefer to read it first, even though I know I am signing my soul away to the devil."

The smile on Bucky's face turned chilling, "and this devil still has the power to make you disappear, so sign the fucking papers."

To hell with him, Sam thought, "after I fucking read it." She smiled saccharine sweet, before resuming her reading, ignoring the whirring of the gears in Bucky's metal arm as he clenched his fist.

"Hey," Rhodey called out, "stop that man. Let her read the contract."

Bucky threw the pen down on the coffee table, folded his arms across his chest and sulked. Once Sam was through reading, she signed her soul and name away on the dotted line, before passing the pen and contract to Bucky who signed and then Rhodey who gave it to Maria.

"I will begin processing these as soon as I get back to the office." She put the papers in her briefcase before looking at her and Bucky. "Well, you are now husband and wife."

"Should we kiss to seal the deal." Bucky joked only to receive a stinging slap across his cheek for his efforts.

The room was silent. Maria and Rhodey watching the two sitting on the couch, wondering if this was about to be the shortest marriage in history. Sam horrified at what she had just done and to whom she had done it, her hand still in the air and Bucky with a stunned expression on his face.

"Shit." Sam cursed, grabbing her schoolbag and hauling ass off the couch, intending to seek refuge in her room. She was halfway across the room when Bucky called out to her, voice neutral and that scared her. She turned in time to see something being thrown across the distance to her and on instinct, she caught it. Looking properly at the item now in her hands, Sam saw that it was a small, black velvet box and upon opening it, was a large square cut black diamond in a platinum setting. Sam was speechless at the sheer size of the diamond.

"I expect you to wear that."

Sam looked up at Bucky, his eyes hard and his cheek red from where she had hit him. "It reminds me of you." She sneered, "black like your heart." With that she beat a hasty retreat to her room, slamming and locking the door, and throwing the small velvet box with the ring still on it in the middle of her bed, forgetting about it until she went to sleep that night and saw it still sitting innocently where she had thrown it four hours earlier. Her very own beautiful personal leash, courtesy of a killer. 


Sam was having a blast at the party. She saw a few students she knew from some of her classes but never interacted with before until now and soon her contacts' list had a lot more than just three phone numbers. She was currently dancing with Peter Parker, the university's resident 15-year-old genius who was invited to the party but banned from drinking anything stronger than soda; while Sam stuck with water, since she was driving home. 

Peter was soon pounced upon by some of his friends and dragged away to do God knows what and Sam took that as an opportunity to use the bathroom and check her cell phone that she had left in her handbag along with her car keys and credit cards. She was greeted with twenty-four missed calls, eighteen text messages and twenty WhatsApp messages.

"Shit." The word felt from her tongue, heavy with apprehension as she hit re-dial and put the phone to her ear. It did not even ring once before it was answered.

"The fuck, are you?" Bucky' voice was as dark as his mood.

"A friend of a friend party."

"A party." He laughed derisively, "I have been calling you. Why the fuck did you not pick up? You know to fucking answer you phone any time I call, with a few exceptions. A party is not one of those exceptions!" He finished his statement in a roar.

Sam could hear the anger radiating through the phone, but instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. "Why were you calling me?"

There was brief silence on the phone.

"What?"

"I asked why were you trying to call me?" Sam sat heavily on the bed, "you know where I am at all times, thanks to the GPS on my phone and the tracker you have on my car. So, what was so important that you all but came here looking for me yourself?"

Her question was met with more silence.

"Bucky!" Sam felt her own temper rising. "Why do you continuously call me? You know I am not going to talk. If I am not at the penthouse, then more than likely I am at school. I hardly go anywhere. So, why all the phone calls?"

"I came back, and you weren't here."

Sam was thoroughly confused. It was not the first time that Bucky was at a job and came back to an empty penthouse since he forced Sam into an inescapable marriage. What was so different this time?

"And...?"

"I wanted to know if you were ok. I checked your room, and your back pack and books were all there, so I knew you weren't doing anything school related."

"So..." Sam dragged out the 'o', "you were just checking to see if I was alright."

"Yes."

Sam could not help but release a laugh that was empty and bordering on hysterical. "Bucky, I have not been ok or alright since the night we had our first encounter. I have not been ok, since that night you broke into my apartment and threatened me. I have not been alright, since I was forced to come and live with you as your forced wife." Her temper was rising and so was her voice. "I am not ok or alright when I am away from you and that fucking ivory prison, because I know I have to return to it and to you. So, to answer your question, I am not alright or ok!"

"Sam?"

She whipped around to the sound of the tentative voice to see both T'Challa and Natasha looking at her with concern on their faces and in their eyes.

Natasha stepped forward. "You good?"

Sam shook her head and disconnected the call. "I have to get home." She grabbed her bag from the bed and stood up.

"Hey," Natasha stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, "you know if you ever need to talk or a place to stay, you got both me and T'Challa."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Natasha and T'Challa watched as Sam left, knowing something was not right with their friend, but knowing she would not say anything until she was ready. 

Arriving at the penthouse, Sam walked into a dark entry way after exiting the elevator, but not for a moment did she think that she was alone. 

"You didn't have to cut your evening short because me."

She turned around and saw the outline of Bucky sitting in a chair in the corner where the solid wall met a wall of glass, the moonlight offering what little light it could, but Sam was able to decipher how he was feeling from his tone alone and he was annoyed.

"Well, just like everything else in my life, you were able to ruin it." She headed towards her room, hearing Bucky's footsteps behind her. Upon entering her room, she turned on the lamp, illuminating the room in a warm glow. She threw her bag on the study table and toed off her sandals, kicking them under the bed before turning to face him. "What?"

Bucky downed the rest of his drink, placing the glass on Sam's beside table before eyeing her. "You keep saying that I ruined your life, but isn't it better because of me?"

Sam scoffed, folding her arms across her chest and levelling Bucky with a withering glare. "Yeah, it is much better being forced into a marriage with a killer for hire, who keeps tabs on me at all times." Sarcasm dripped from her tone.

"You say that, but look around you Samantha." Bucky waved around the expensively decorated large bedroom. "Look at what you have gained; a life of comfort."

"Is that how you justify holding me at knife point outside of my former workplace? Do you think that just because you throw money at me, it erases the fact that you invaded my home, cornered me and hurt me?" Sam was doing a piss poor job of not raising her voice, but she was so angry and frustrated at her current situation. "Just because you moved me out of a shabby, rotten apartment at gunpoint I might add, and into a penthouse does not minimize your favourite reminder to me that you have the power to make me disappear."

"You are raising some very valid points, yet," Bucky looked her up and down, the smile blossoming on his face sending a shiver of fear down Sam's spine. "That's a really nice laptop you have." He pointed behind him towards her desk, where her text books, notes, flash cards and a new laptop laid. "That is a $6,000.00 laptop that you bought not even three weeks after moving in here. I know working adults with much inexpensive laptops." 

"I needed a laptop for school and since you are footing the bill, I thought 'go big or go home' and since I can't go home," she shrugged innocently, "I went big."

Bucky nodded his head at her vindictiveness, "ok, school means laptop and since you work so hard, you should have the best. However, it did not even take you a month before you started buying nothing but designer clothes. I read your credit card statements."

Sam narrowed her eyes at that. "Again, you are footing the bill."

"Yes, darling wife I am." Bucky took a step towards her and she stepped back, only to be brought up short by her bed. "I am footing the bill and allowing you to continue living your life; so, what I need for you to do," his voice took on a menacing edge, but Sam, even though she felt the fear creeping in, she kept her glare up. "Is to stop complaining about me ruining your life, when you are running around town spending my money and answer your fucking phone when I call!" He shouted in her face.

"Fuck you and your blood money, murderer!" She screamed back.

Bucky snapped, he grabbed hold of her by the flimsy straps of her navy-blue button camisole, dragging her towards him. Sam's hands flew up, trying to pry open his fingers.

"Let go of me!"

He did just the opposite; choosing to give her a violent shake to stop her thrashing. "I can be pushed only so far Samantha." His eyes bored into hers and she glared back at him, not giving an inch.

"The same goes for me. If you hurt me, I will kill you!"

Bucky laughed mockingly, "I would love to see you try; considering who the trained killer is here."

Having more than enough of his shit, Sam's hand cracked across his cheek hard enough to daze him for a few seconds, which helped her to get loose of his hold. However, he recovered quickly and made to grab her again just as Sam was slipping from between him and the bed; though, instead of grabbing her arm, Bucky grabbed her camisole and in the process of going in opposite directions, the fabric tore exposing Sam's choice of bra.

Both her and Bucky stopped at the sound and looked down, seeing what had happened, Sam brought up her arms, doing her best to cover herself from those cold steel blue eyes that had yet to look up from where her clothes had ripped. And when they did look up, she wished that they had not.

The look in the eyes of the killer standing in front of her, is one that she had seen in the eyes of many men since the day she turned twelve. It never failed to send a chill down her spine. 

Memories of that night in the alley, behind Alice’s Diner, when he had pressed his body against hers, flashed through her mind and she felt ice cold fear grab hold of her. "You-you said you would not hurt me." She hated how her voice sounded small and wary.

Bucky still had a grip on the ripped fabric and his eyes lazily roamed her exposed flesh when she spoke before meeting her again. "Yes, I did say that, and I have no intention of doing so." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "well, at least tonight I have no intentions of doing so physically. But..." he trailed off, moving his hands so that he was holding her arms instead, giving her no choice but to face him head on. "Let me ruin your life again for tonight.” His smile was that of the devil. “You will be taking my name."

Sam's eyes widened. "No! I am keeping my own name."

"You think this is up for discussion?" Bucky's hold on her tightened. "I am not asking you. I am telling you that you will be ‘Samantha Barnes’. Keep saying that I have ruined your life and I will live up to that." He released her and walked towards the bedroom door. "I will have Maria draw up the papers and you can sign them tomorrow."  

He walked out, leaving Sam staring at nothing in her room. Smiling maliciously to himself, when he heard the glass he had left on her bedside table shatter against the wall opposite her bedroom door.


Since that night, Sam avoided Bucky as much as she could. That look in his eyes had put the fear of God in her and she knew that she did not stand a chance should he decide to act on it; but so far, he did nothing but look.

It was 11:37 p.m. on a Wednesday night and Sam was by herself in the study section of the library peacefully finishing her paper for organic chemistry. The air was still, not a single sound to be heard.

"You do know all this avoidance can hurt my feelings."

Sam barely held in a scream as she shot up out of her chair, knocking her books off the study table she was occupying and spun around to face a smirking Bucky. 

"What are you doing here?!" She asked before remembering where she was and lowered her voice. "You fucking scared me you asshole!" She said in a shout-whisper.

He had taken on a job that took him out of the country for a month, something Sam was extremely happy about, but he made sure to call her when he could, always referring to her as 'darling wife', 'dear wife' and his personal favourite ‘Mrs. Barnes’.

"I came home, and you weren't there, so I tracked your phone here."

He said it as if he was merely telling her what the weather was like and Sam had the urge to hit him but knew what that would get her.

"I was going to return." Sam was tired, emotionally and mentally and she made no effort to hide it from him. "I have no choice in the matter." Bucky smiled cruelly at her.

"Are you soon finished here?" He asked.

Sam ran a hand through her hair, "yeah, just three more paragraphs and then I can leave." Something then dawned on her. "Why are you here? You should not have returned until Friday."

"Change in plans, came back earlier than previously thought." Bucky was looking around the library. "So, this is what a university library looks like." He looked at Sam, "I did not receive a tertiary education." He explained, "I went straight into the military at eighteen; became the best sniper they could make. That's where I lost my arm." He waved the silver metallic arm drawing Sam's attention to it.

She offered no response at hearing his explanation, instead choosing to right her belongings and continuing with her work. Bucky sat on top of the next table, looking over the divider at what Sam was typing. They sat like that for ten minutes, Sam's eyes and fingers never straying from her laptop, while ignoring Bucky hanging over the divider watching her.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam and Bucky turned at the voice who called out to her. 

"Brock," Sam greeted the newcomer with a tired but warm smile, at which Bucky frowned, "late night?"

Brock laughed, "actually an early night. First one in almost a year." When he got closer to them, he looked at Bucky and stuck out his hand. "Brock Rumlow." He introduced himself. "And you must be the secret husband."

Bucky smirked at that, "Bucky Barnes." He shook Brock's hand. "Secret husband?" He turned his attention back to Sam who was giving her laptop her undivided attention.

"We all know that Sam is married but that was the extent of what we knew, and we only found out because we saw that big ol' rock on her left hand."

"Are you that ashamed of me Sammy?" He mockingly said her nickname. "I mean, I know I am not fully whole," he brought his prosthetic arm to rest on the divider and Sam glanced at it, knowing the damage that it could do, then up at him. "But I thought you could look pass my flaws."

Sam slammed her laptop closed, causing Brock to startle and he looked between the two, knowing that something was not quite right.

"I am done." She shoved her books and laptop into her bag and stood. "Move your ass and let's get out of here."

Bucky stood at her command, making sure to loom over her with his height, a sly smile on his face. "Aye, aye captain."

"See you around Brock."

"Hey, wait." He called out. "Here." In his outstretched hand was a thick stapled document. Sam took the offered item, curious as to what it was and when she opened it she smiled brightly.

"Oh my God!" She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Thank you!" 

Brock hugged her back, but he saw the look on Bucky's face behind Sam's back. He saw the look of a jealous man, as he stared at Sam and quickly eased out of her hold. "You are welcome. It's a 'thank you' for all your help with my paper. And exams are coming up, so I know you would want all the study and practice materials you can get your hands on."

Sam was smiling like a kid on Christmas day, unaware of how Bucky was looking at her.

"Seriously though, thanks for this." She waved the papers in the air between them.

Brock looked between her and Bucky, wanting to beat a hasty retreat, but at the same time concerned for her safety once she was alone with him. However, that decision was taken from him.

"Well, I have to go now." Sam said, tucking the papers carefully into her backpack. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." Brock watched as Sam and Bucky left, his mind racing with what he had seen and the knowledge that Sam was unaware of how she was looked at. 

Sam and Bucky exited the library, walking side by side to the parking lot where their cars were parked. The silence between them was heavy and Sam was glad that in a few minutes there would be space between them. She was so deep in thought that she did not register Bucky no longer beside her and when she did, she stopped walking and turned around to see him a few feet behind her, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Sighing in annoyance, Sam rolled her eyes. "What now?"

"Who was that guy?"

"Who? Brock?"

"Yeah, him." Bucky spat.

"A grad student, one of my class tutors and a friend." Sam answered, not sure what had gotten into Bucky this time.

"A friend." Bucky looked off to the side, a small scathing laugh leaving his lips. "What kind of a friend?" His eyes slid back to Sam.

"A friend who gave me coveted study material."

"Who also calls you 'Sammy'?"

She sighed exasperatedly and resumed walking to the parking lot. "I am too damn tired to deal with any of your shit tonight. I will see you back at the penthouse." Upon reaching her vehicle, she was about to enter it when she was roughly spun around, pushed up against it and the car door slammed violently, the sound echoing loudly in the empty parking lot. "Get your hands off me." she growled.

Bucky glared down at her, "we may not have a conventional marriage, but you will respect the fact that we have a legal marriage. I will not tolerate an extramarital affair from you."

Sam rolled her eyes so hard, she gave herself a headache. "Brock. Is. Married."

"Never stopped a man before."

"Well, apart from the fact that cheating is not my style. I do not want to have anyone's blood on my hands. Knowing you, you would just kill the person. Sadistic bastard that you are."

Bucky smiled as if she had just paid him a compliment, instead of insulting him.

"Can you ease up now? I want to get out of here."

He released his hold on her, waiting until she had gotten into the vehicle, before getting into his and drove behind her the entire way to the penthouse, only separating once they arrived at their destination and Sam firmly closed her bedroom behind her.


Sam was deep in concentration, when the sound of knocking penetrated her senses. Turning in her chair she looked at the door in confusion.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Bucky entered to see the look on Sam's face. "What?"

"You knocked."

It was Bucky's turn to be confused. "Yeah? That is the polite thing to do when entering someone's space, especially if the door is closed."

Sam turned back around in her chair. "Well, with your personality and behaviour, I figured you would just burst in as you please; you know, just to remind me that you own the place."

"Everything is always a fight with you isn't it?" Bucky took a seat on her bed, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "I am respecting your privacy, hence me knocking before entering your room."

"And if I refused you entry?"

"Then I would say what I had to from outside the door."

"And if I told you to get out right now?"

"Then I would leave; I may not like it, but I would leave."

Sam hummed, nodding her head slightly. "What do you need?"

"I am leaving tonight for a job." Bucky informed her. "I will be gone for two weeks."

Sam remained silent.

"In addition, I will not be able to contact you for that time."

"Oh?" That got Sam's attention. "Do tell me more."

"Please, do try to contain your excitement at getting rid of me temporarily." He said dryly. 

"I wish it was permanently." Sam fired back.

"Can you at least try and pretend to be cordial for a few minutes?"

"Can you drop dead?"

Bucky's eyes grew hard and Sam knew she was on thin ice with that comment.

"I am trying very hard to be nice here Sam." His voice was clipped. "Stop while you're ahead."

Sam took the warning to heart, watching what she said since that day and her tone when she did decide to be snappy and a smart ass.


Bucky said that he would have been gone for two weeks. He was gone for almost a month. Sam was not worried; if Bucky was hurt, she would have been informed by his best friend, Steve Rogers. The same best friend who called Sam three times a day like clockwork for the past two weeks in place of Bucky. And if he were dead, then she would be a very rich, young widow; her life once hers again.

It had been three months since that fateful night and Sam was still not any less scared than she was before. Every day she waited for the other shoe to drop; tonight, that shoe crashed to the floor.

On the night that marked the third month of Sam's new life, Bucky returned home. Walking with a purpose, he slammed open the door to Sam's bedroom, somewhere he hardly went and when he did he requested permission to enter as if he did not own the fucking penthouse and as if Sam would ever reject his entry for fear of her life.

Sam had been sitting on her bed, surrounded by school books when she jumped violently in fright at the sudden noise, only to shrink back in fear when she saw the look on her husband's face.

"Bucky? You're back? Wha-" Sam did not manage to finish her question as Bucky strode over to her quickly, grabbed her by her wrist and dragged her from the bed, out of her room.

"Bucky! What's wrong?! where are we going?!" 

He did not answer, but kept on walking, dragging her by her arm behind him.

"you are hurting me!" She tried to pull her wrist from his vice like grip. When that did not work, Sam attempted to dig her heels into the marble floor to get him to stop, but undeterred, Bucky only turned around picked her up as if she weighed nothing, threw her over his shoulder and continued walking.

Upon reaching his destination, his bedroom, Bucky kicked open the door, walked inside and threw her unceremoniously on the bed where she bounced.

"What the hell is wrong with y-" she was again cut off, this time by shock from seeing that Bucky was undressing, his steel blue eyes staring unwaveringly at her in an unnerving fashion. "Bucky, what's going on?" She was scared and could not disguise the fear in her voice.

"We are going to consummate out marriage dear wife."

Sam stared in horror as Bucky stood before her in nothing but his jeans, which now hung low on his hips thanks to the button and zipper being undone. He had never troubled her for sex, something she had put on the back-burner of her mind after three months of being married and he did not say or even attempt to do anything remotely sexual to her, after forcing her into the marriage.

"No." Her voice was strong, even though she could feel tremors rocking her body.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and the coldness in them reminded Sam of how he had earned the nightmare inducing nickname 'The Winter Soldier'.

"Ok, let me break it down for you; you can willingly spread your legs for me or I can force them a part and forcefully consummate this marriage without your consent."

'Rape. He was going to rape me.' Sam thought. Her mind racing a mile a minute, trying to figure a way out of this situation. Her mind flashed back to that damning night when they first met, and he had pressed his hard on against her, making her think the worst and that is when it clicked.

"You said that you were not a "rapist.'"

“I did say that. And it is true; I am no rapist and me not becoming one is up to you Mrs. Barnes.” Bucky regarded her, looking at the tears gathering in her eyes, ready to spill over the moment she blinked.

“You have the power to make me not become a rapist.”

Sam’s mind was spinning with his words, with what he was saying, and she felt sick to her stomach. There were two choices before her: 1) willingly have sex with him and he would remain true to his word and 2) refuse him and he would have no problem forcing himself on her.

“So, what’d you say Sam?”

She was brought out of her thought to see that Bucky was now sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her with warm blues that she knew could go steel cold on seconds.

“Consummating our marriage under duress is still rape.”

And there is was, as soon as those words left her mouth, his eyes became cold instantly.

Bucky tilted his head, his eyes and body language shifting from non-threatening to menacing and Sam knew she was done for.

“Wrong answer Sam.”

Sam barely had time to react before Bucky was launching himself across the bed at her. She managed to scramble off the other side of the bed, determined to make it to the bedroom door, but she caught their reflection in the floor to ceiling windows and saw that Bucky was right on her heels and made a sharp turn in the direction of the bathroom, closing and locking the door just in time when Bucky ran into it, making it shake violently. Sam backed away instantly, eyeing the wooden door that stood between her and an enraged assassin, hell-bent on having his way with her.

“Open the door Samantha.” Bucky’s voice was calm, but belied the inferno that awaited Sam outside the door.

She was moments away from panicking. Spinning around in the bathroom, looking for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Pulling open drawers, Sam found a wickedly sharp straight razor just as rattling of the door went suddenly quiet.

Turning to face the door, Sam held her breath, straining her ears to hear what was happening on the other side when she heard faint scratching. Stepping away closer to the door, she jumped back in fright when the door handle on her side fell to the floor with a ringing clatter and she looked up in horror as the door slowly swung open to reveal a red in the face with anger assassin.

“B-Bucky.” Sam walked backwards until the marble face-basin pressed into her lower back. The large bathroom, not offering her anywhere to run as it was all open to the monster before her.

Bucky entered the bathroom, murder and danger radiating from his every pore, from his every step towards her, from his face and body language and Sam stood there, fear coiling around her lungs and squeezing until she felt as if she was going to pass out.

“You should not have done that Samantha.”

His voice was low, cold and dangerous and Sam was suddenly faced with the enormity of the situation. She was not getting out of this bathroom unscathed, but hell if she was going down without a fight. Bucky may have been a trained assassin, but Sam was a teenaged wife, faced with the threat of being raped by her husband and she was damned if she was going to make it easy for him.

Sam watched him, her eyes never straying from his as he got closer, the straight razor down by her thigh, out of sight as she flicked it open, waiting as he got closer. She might not be able to kill him, but she could deal enough damage to try and escape.

When he was close enough that her head started tilting back to keep eye contact with him, Sam adjusted her grip on the handle of the razor.

Without another word, Bucky’s hand shot out and snatched Sam’s arm, who retaliated immediately with her counter attack. Swiping up as hard as she could, Sam sliced Bucky’s arm open.

“Fucking bitch!” He reared back from the pain and Sam took the opening to duck out from between him and the face-basin, running towards the handle-less bathroom door, the edge of the bed in her sights as she set one foot over the threshold into the bedroom, only to be roughly yanked back by the back of her shirt and thrown to the side where she connected harshly with the raised jacuzzi bathtub, the razor flying from her hand and getting lost somewhere in the bathroom.

Turning over onto her back, Sam raised herself up and leaned against the side of the tub, regaining her bearings as a shadow fell over her, looking up all she saw was the devil standing over her, ready to deliver her punishment.  

“Please don’t.” The first of many tears for that night fell as an angry, bleeding Bucky grabbed her by her shirt and hauled her to her feet.

“Bucky, don’t! Don’t do this!” She tried to pull herself from his grasp, but he held on tight. “I won’t tell anyone! Please! I don’t want this!”

Bucky dragged Sam across the bathroom and back into the bedroom where he threw her on the bed, climbed on top of her and ignoring her pleas and cries, he forcefully consummated their marriage.


Bucky had gotten off her a few seconds ago, minutes, hours…Sam had lost track of time, between crying, screaming and begging. She knew nothing but the pain radiating from deep inside of her. Somewhere distantly, she heard water being turned on and off and smelled antiseptic, but it felt as if she was dreaming.

The only thought running through her mind was, ‘if only.’

If only she had just been a few minutes late when throwing out the garbage.

If only she had just been a few minutes early when throwing out the garbage.

If only she had not taken the extra shift.

If only nothing but tragedy had not befallen her family.

If only, if only, if only, IF ONLY!!!!!!

If only she had just the smallest bit of luck, then she would not be married to the infamous Winter Soldier, the world's deadliest assassin, and she would not be in the amount of pain she was right now; with blood and semen running from between her legs, staining the white sheets on which she was laying, curled in a foetal position, with bruises covering her body.

Bucky exited the bathroom, his arm that Sam had managed to injure wrapped in cleaned bandages, his hair wet from the shower he just took. Sam remained still, even when she felt the bed dip beside her. He gently rolled her over on her back and she flung an arm over her eyes, trying to block out the world.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He parted her legs without any resistance from her.

Why bother fighting, he had already pried them open and raped her, it would be useless to continue fighting him. 

He cleaned her up with a warm wet rag and then dried her.

"Sit up." 

She did as told, but kept her eyes closed. She felt the neck of a shirt being pulled over her head and raised her arms for Bucky to slip on a shirt she realised was his as it was big on her and smelled of him. When he was finished she laid back down, curling up into a ball. Bucky turned out the lights and joined her in bed, moulding himself to her back, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"From now on, you will sleep in here. We will move your stuff in here tomorrow."

Sam remained still.

"And we will be having an intimate relationship as well. So, I hope our next encounter goes more smoothly than this one."


 

Sam sat at the edge of the large bed, her feet not even grazing the cool marble floor. The city skyline that most would kill for just to have as their view, behind her, the large floor to ceiling windows creating a barrier between it and her.

Irony is that Sam did not have to kill anyone to get the view; she just had to be the poor (in every sense of the word) unfortunate soul to witness someone else's murder.

She heard the private elevator to the penthouse open and she brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her eyes watching the bedroom door as she heard him come closer.

Soon the door opened and in walked the bane of her existence, still looking as good as he did that fateful night a year ago, but no less lethal. His steel blue eyes met hers and he smiled. She did not return it, her eyes watching him as he went to the bathroom, to wash off whatever job it was that had him out.

A few minutes later, she heard the shower turn off and he stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet and out, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets running down his chiselled body and Sam wanted nothing more than to throttle him. He came to stand in front of her, making Sam tilt her head back to look up at him.

"Where's my 'welcome home' kiss?" Bucky asked, looking like a charming school boy but beneath the facade lurked a cold-blooded killer.

Sam sighed, and brought herself to her knees on the edge of the bed so that she could kiss him, knowing where this was going to lead but could not find it in herself to care at all.

It had been a year since that fateful night and Sam was no longer scared of Bucky. Now she was simply tired. Oh, so tired.

Chapter Text

Sam has always received compliments on her beauty. How it was greater than that of Helen of Troy, whom was the catalyst for the Trojan war and Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty among other things.

"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold.   The curves of your lips rewrite history.”  Her long-time friend, Vlad Tepes told her once and he was not wrong.

Sam has seen history when it is in the making, when it has been made and when it has repeated itself (majority of the times due to men's stupidity, arrogance and egos).

Born a slave, September 23, 1837, her original name was one that described what a gift her beauty was, as everyone, men and women, white and black, master and slave, were all in awe of her. She was the pride and joy of her mother, as well as her masters, who allowed her to be taught how to read and write, something completely unheard of for a slave, even if that slave was a house slave.

 At the age of ten, Sam met the man who would later become her husband; marrying him when she turned sixteen, hence becoming the wife of one of the richest plantation owners. On the night of their wedding, he presented her with a portrait, painted to forever capture her youth and beauty, as a wedding gift.

That same night, Sam made a deal with the devil to be forever young, instead passing off her mortality (and her sins as well) to a canvas with her painted face on it.


“All art is quite useless. Their beauty will fade.” An older woman, skin beginning to show the signs of aging, sneered at Sam who was twenty-one at the time, during the annual Christmas ball her husband held, where he invited fellow plantation owners and their families to dine and dance surrounded by untold wealth. Sam simply smiled and continued flitting among the many guests in her home. When two nights later, she helped all the plantation slaves, owned by the woman and her husband escape their hell on earth, before setting the Great House on fire, with the woman and her husband blissfully asleep in there.

"Another sin to add to my collection." Sam said to herself, atop her horse, watching from distance as the house burned, screams and cries for help, music to her ears. 


When it became obvious that she was not aging alongside her husband, without question, he spirited her away to Scotland, deep into the country side, where she lived out his final days with him. On his dying breath, he asked her to do some good with the blessing she was given.

Oh, how ignorant he was to the fact that she had sold her soul and that this was no gift from God, but from his fallen angel. Still, she tried to do as told, starting with helping slaves to escape their masters and find freedom; and if she took sadistic pleasure in harming the slavers, well those sins were not hers to carry.


Vlad threw his head back in laughter. "I sacrificed my own humanity to save my kingdom and look what it got me; a dead wife, estranged from my only child, exiled from my kingdom, forced to hide in the shadows forever." He twirled the dark red wine in his wine glass, watching as the liquid settled. 

Sam smirked, throwing back the rest of her wine. “Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.” 

"Unlike you Serena."

"Samantha." She corrected instantly. "I have not used 'Serena' in almost a century." She clicked her tongue at Vlad. "You're getting old there."

Vlad smiled good naturedly. "You women are better than us men."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You do not hide behind good intentions or morals. You wanted to remain young and beautiful, so you sold your soul and did not even bother to be coy about it."

Sam smiled at Vlad, poured them both another drink and toasted to her birthday, on the night of September 23rd, 1958, in a hotel room in Paris, as they reminisced about their soul and humanity lost centuries ago. 


Her new friends, in this new life, are beginning to wonder why she show no evidence of the wars she has fought on her body. She sees how they all look at her in question and when the time comes, she will reveal to them that she is in fact immortal. However, she will keep her weakness close to her chest.

Her only weakness being that, deep beneath her home, behind layers of security she perfected over the many years she has lived, that not even Tony Stark could break through, lies a vault that holds a portrait, ravaged not by time, but by the many sins she has committed. Sins ranging from curiosity to downright depraved and cruel, to the orders she received from the U.S. government until five years ago.

But, for now, no one living, aside from Vlad, knows that Sam is not really her name, but one of the many names she has had over the centuries she has lived.

No one knows that 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' is not really a story, but Sam's biography.

No one knows that Sam is Dorian Gray.

No one knows that Samantha Teresa Wilson, was born Dorian Greta Gray, on a cotton plantation to a slave mother, September 23, 1837.

Forever young, yes.

Forever cursed, not in Sam’s eyes.

 

The End.

Chapter Text

Samantha Wilson-Hart and her father, Harry Hart both entered the research facility where he worked in Hong Kong. Even after a sixteen hour flight, from New York to Hong Kong, thirteen year old Sam was still wide awake, taking in everything around her with wide open eyes. She loved coming to Hong Kong and seeing the work her Chemical Biologist father and his colleagues did. Sam lived in the U.S. with her older brother Billy, while their father worked overseas and during Summer, when school was on break, Sam was on the first flight out to see her father.

Hong Kong was like a second home to her and the research facility was her playground. The many employees there knowing who she was, watching as she grew from a toddler into a teenager and she was just as excited to see them.

The facility had four research areas: Chemistry, Biology, Physics and Research Design.

Sam's favourite area was Physics, as the labs in the Physics wing had many cool projects she could observe unlike the chemistry and biology wings that had some restricted areas due to the chemical and samples being worked with.

"You excited for the conference on Saturday? Ready to hear how your old man and a bunch of young folks are going to help people with amnesia?" Harry asked as they passed through the first security check point.

"Nah, I am just here to see what Professor Leng has for me to play with." Sam joked, missing the pained look on her father's face at the mention of his former colleague, something he had yet to tell Sam. 

"Let's go say 'hi' to Dr. Kala, before you go and terrorise the Physics wing." He suggested, trying to off breaking his daughter’s heart a little longer.

Sam looked affronted, "I do not terrorise anyone over there. They all love me. Everyone here loves me."

"And your humility astounds me Sam." Harry looked at his daughter with raised eyebrows, "and you do terrorise them; the last time you were here, you and Dr. Parker's son were found bungee jumping from the reinforced titanium webbing that they had designed to make the retrieval of soldiers via helicopter easier."

Sam simply shrugged her shoulders, "at least they knew it worked."

Harry shook his head as he ushered his daughter through the security checkpoint on the forty-first floor of the chemistry and biology wing, Sam smiling brightly at the security guard who she knew on a first name basis, taking the time to stop and chat for a few minutes, asking about his family. The security guard, Lee Xu Chu was delighted at seeing his little friend again that he upgraded her access pass to the facility to an all access pass.

"You sure that is a wise decision Lee?" Harry eyed his daughter warily, as she looked at the piece of blue transparent plastic that would give her access to the even most restricted of areas.

"No worries, Dr. Hart." Lee looked too comfortable giving that amount of power to a precocious thirteen year old girl. "Sam won't abuse the power she was given." Lee smiled down at Sam who gave him an equally bright one.

"Dear Lord, she has you all wrapped around her finger."

"Don't hate dad. Thanks Lee!" Sam called out as her father pushed her through the automatic doors and into the corridor that lead to his lab. Once inside, Sam threw her coat and back pack down on a chair that was put in the corner especially for her and ran to her other favourite spot in the entire building. The floor to ceiling window in the corner of the lab that gave her a beautiful view of the Hong Kong skyline.

What she especially liked looking at was the large pool on the rooftop of the hotel right next door to them, a few stories lower than the floor where she currently was. The cabanas that were scattered around the roof top offered a colourful view and the pool water was always moving thanks to its location; the slightest breeze creating soft ripples. She couldn't wait to go swimming in it once the conference was finished.

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah Sam." Her father was already buried in his work, putting the final touches on the presentation for the conference.

"What's with all the added security cameras in the hallway and security out front?"

Sam heard the clacking of keys on the keyboard come to stop and saw a vague reflection of her father in the smudge less glass window giving her his undivided attention.

"Can you keep a secret Sam?"

That question had her spinning around so fast, her father was worried she was going to topple over from such a fast shift in her equilibrium. "Yes, I can."

"Come with me." He got up from his desk and Sam followed him through the glass automatic sliding doors that separated where lab tests were done from the researchers work stations. He walked up to a key pad and raised his hand to it. "Cover your eyes Sam, I know how that memory of yours work and I do not need you being privy to this pass code."

Sam rolled her eyes as a beep sounded in the roon, the light on the keypad turned green and the glass doors before them slid open. "Well, that is new as well." She commented once they had entered the testing room. 

"We had to make a few security changes thanks to this medical breakthrough we had." Harry answered as he walked over to the wall, and pressed on a section of it. What happened next had Sam thinking about all those James Bond movies she likes to watch.

What Sam had thought was just a plain white wall, opened up to reveal a small dark container with another keypad, on which her father entered another code, her attention narrowed down to that dark container that she realised was a safe, when there was another beep the light turned green and her father opened it to reveal a single black thumb drive, that he removed and brought down to her eye level.

She stared at it in awe, not knowing what it contained, but knew whatever was on it, was extremely important to warrant this kind of security.

"What is it?"

"This holds all the data we have on a compound developed and named Meminisse. Latin for 'to remember'." Harry explained, his voice soft, "this is something that will forever change the lives of amnesiacs and if it gets into the wrong hands, it can also kill a lot of people." 

Sam looked up at her father, her eyes filled with confusion, "how can it kill people if it was created to help them."

"Because, if a certain chemical compound is removed from the formula when it is done, it will become a dangerous nerve gas." They both turned at the sound of a new voice and Sam's face lit up as if Christmas had come early.

"Dr. Kala!" 

Once the newcomer was in the testing room, Sam ran to her and was enveloped in a big hug, being lifted off her feet in the process.

"My, look how big you have gotten." Dr. Kala smiled at Sam, pulling on one of her ringlet curls. "I soon won't be able to lift you up anymore." Dr. Kala was one of the smartest persons Sam knew and she looked up to her a lot. Being the only girl born to an Indian family with five older brothers, Dr. Kala fought hard to get to where she was today and Sam had mad respect for her.

"So, this nerve gas thing, how'd you find out about it?" Sam asked, wanting to get back to the topic on hand. However, she did not notice the pained expression her father and Dr. Kala exchanged over her head.

"A lab mishap." Harry said.

"A lab mishap, where no lives were lost and for that we are grateful." Dr. Kala chimed in, jostling Sam a little to make her giggle not liking the sombre look that was on the teen's face. "I have personally seen up close the effects that nerve gas has on people and it is not pretty. That is why we have increased security measures."

Sam was thoughtful for a moment, "but if you are going to be speaking about it at the conference, wouldn't that attract a lot of attention?"

Harry smiled proudly at his daughter; always one step ahead of everyone. "We will speak about how to unlock the memories of an amnesiac, but we won't be giving out the data on how to make the chemical compound. That is only something myself, Dr. Kala and the other three persons on this research team are to be privy of."

"You do know once, more than one person knows about a 'secret' it is no longer one?"

Dr. Kala laughed and put Sam back on the floor, ruffling her hair. "I love you Sam. You are such a breath of fresh air."

"Love you too Dr. Kala." Sam said distracted as she watched her father replace the thumb drive in the safe, lock it and ushered her out of the room, the door automatically closing behind them. 

"Hey," Harry called to Sam when he saw that she was leaving the lab. "Where are you going?"

Sam pointed in the general direction of the door, "I am going to visit Professor Leng." Her father knew that once he showed her what he was currently working on, she would go and visit the Professor. This time, watching her father, she did not miss the pained expression that he and Dr. Kala shared. "What?" Apprehension filled her. "What is it?"

"Sam," her father took off his glasses and sat down in his desk chair, calling her over with a wave of his hand. When she stood before him, he patted the edge of his desk and she hopped up on it. "I am so sorry to tell you this, but Professor Leng no longer works here."

Sam was shell shocked. "What? Why?"

Dr. Kala stepped forward, her eyes sad. "When we had that lab mishap, Professor Leng was here for it. He witnessed what it could do and we had no idea what kind of wickedness was in his heart sweetheart."

"Wickedness? What are you talking about?" Sam's head swivelled to her father, "are you telling me that he wanted to use it to hurt people?"

"Sam, I am terribly sorry to have to break your heart with this news." Harry truly looked torn up. 

Sam felt her eyes burn with tears and scrubbed at them. "That makes no sense. Professor Leng was one of the nicest adults I knew. He sent me presents and money for Christmas and my birthday. He gave me sweets every time I came here and he always had cool stuff for me to play with in his office."

"Sam, darling," Dr. Kala's soft accented voice washed over her, "we never know people as much as we would like to and so we cannot say why someone who seemed so nice would want to do something so awful."

"So, just because he wanted to hurt people he was fired?"

"No, he tried to steal the data and when we caught him, we made sure that everything was dealt with in house to prevent any information being leaked to the media." Harry explained as gently as he could.

"Where is he now?"

"In a prison in the Netherlands. Solitary confinement."

Sam turned sad, hurt filled eyes on her father. "Why are you just telling me this?"

Harry brushed a finger down Sam's cheek. "Because I could not bear to see the amount of pain you are in right now."

She said nothing as her father's words sunk in, silently she slipped from his desk and pulled the chair from the corner to the window she liked looking out of, looking down at the clear cool looking water of the hotel next door.

"Are you ok Sam, do you want some juice? I can take you down to the cafeteria." Dr. Kala offered.

"No, thank you. I am just going to sit here quietly and read." She had yet to make a move aside from staring out the window.

"Ok, Sam, you do that." Dr. Kala turned to Harry, "I suggest you speak to her again and keep an eye on her." She said quietly. "Children do not take well to being betrayed by adults and I am speaking again from personal experience."

"I will, I am just giving her some time to process it all."

Sam was half an hour into staring out of the window when she felt a strong, warm hand land on her shoulder. She looked up into the warm hazel eyes of her father. "Yeah?"

"Kala and I are going next door to the hotel to finalise a few things for the conference. Do you want to come with us? You can always stay back in the hotel room, get some rest." He suggested.

"No, thank you. I am good here.”

Harry nodded his head in resignation, "ok, just stay out of trouble, no going into the testing area because I know you memorized both the pass-codes for the door and safe."

"I did no such thing."

"Huh uh, sure." Harry shrugged on his coat and went over to where Sam was sitting, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Be back in an hour the least."

"Love you dad."

"Love you darling."


Sam was half way through the book she was reading when her stomach grumbled, and not wanting any of the snacks in her back pack, she made her way to Lee, hoping that he could get something for her from the vending machine.

Just as she turned the corner, she saw a group of men, wearing black soldier-like uniforms enter the forty-first floor and once they walked through the metal detectors the machines went off like crazy, prompting Lee and the other security guard who was with him to stand and address the men.

Lee stepped out from behind the desk, his hand stretched out towards the men, "excuse me gentlemen," his accented voice said, but he got no further before the man at the front pulled a gun from behind his back and shot Lee between his eyes. 

Before Lee's body even fell to the floor, the man had the gun pointed to the head of the other security guard, Seoung.

"Unless you want to end up like your friend there," the man indicated to Lee's dead body with his gun, "I suggest you fully co-operate and try not to be a hero."

The security guard nodded, clearly fearful of the gun pointed in his face, even from Sam's hiding place around the corner.

"My employer who is paying me and my men a lot of money is in need of a particular item from this research facility, particularly this section and you are going to help us get it." The man explained. 

"Wha-what do you want?" He asked.

"Meminisse."

Sam's heart stopped when she heard him utter that word. She looked around wildly, trying to figure out what she could do to slow them down when her eyes landed on the fire alarm on the wall across from her and without a second thought she was up and across the hall, her hand slamming down on the button and immediately, there was a loud wailing with an automatic voice instructing all personnel to the nearest exits.

The threat of a fire would not only bring fire fighters, but the police as well and with that Sam was running off down the hall, back to her father's lab. The all access pass that Lee had given her, got her back into the lab and she headed straight to the testing room, standing on tip-toes to reach the key pad and keyed in the code her father had told her not to memorise.

25-12, Christmas.

The doors to the testing area slid shut the moment the security guard and the men entered the lab and Sam stared at them in shock; apparently they were as equally shocked to find a teenage girl in the room they wanted to enter as the man at the front lowered his gun, a look of uncertainty on his face as he looked from Sam to the security guard.

"Who is she?" He asked, voice rough as his green eyes landed back on Sam.

"I don't know." The Seoung lied and Sam was glad for it. Everyone in this research facility knew who she was.

Sam's eyes caught the movement of another man as he walked over to the keypad, her eyes tracking him.

"Hey Brock." He called out and the man in front turned his attention to him and Sam had the name of at least the leader of the group. That would definitely be helpful if, no, not 'if', when she got out of here.

The man pointed at the keypad and Brock pointed his gun at the security guard's head, causing Sam to flinch.

"Open it." He commanded, voice cold.

"I can't!" Seoung cried, and hurriedly explained, "only the researchers who work in the lab knows the code and it is changed every day."

"Then he is completely useless to use boss." A young looking blonde haired guy at the back of the group said, his cold blue eyes landing on Sam. "Just waste him and the little girl and let's get what we came here for."

That apparently hit a nerve with Brock as he whirled around on the guy, his voice cool and levelled, but Sam knew concealed anger when she saw it. Her brother, Billy was the same; it was the subtle hints that one had to look for to know when he was angry and barely restraining himself from unleashing all hell. It was the clenching of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders, his curt and direct words as he stared someone down and the man standing before her was barely containing his anger.

"We are not killing a little girl." That argument done and not to be returned to, he refocused his attention on the man who had pointed out the keypad, "can you get it open?"

The man had pulled the keypad control from the wall and was dissecting it with his eyes, "yeah, I need just five minutes and I can get it open."

That was not good news for Sam and pushing down her fear of the men with the guns she grabbed a chair, cursing in her head the fact that she was still short even at thirteen. 

"The fuck is she doing?" Another man asked.

Ignoring the eyes on her, Sam pushed the chair right up to where the door met the wall and stood on it. Examining the keypad on her side, Sam took the Swiss army knife her brother had given to her, and using the large blade she pulled the front of the keypad from the wall exposing the wires and mechanisms. 

"No, fucking way." 

Sam has been described as being too smart for her own good. Her teachers described her as genius, her father said she took after her mother with her smarts and her brother said he feared for whoever cross her.

Brock stared at Sam as she cut wires, and linked them with other wires. "Rollins, what is she doing?"

There was a beep and the red light on the keypad died, Sam smiled at her work and hopped down from the chair. All eyes looked from her to the keypad and back to her.

The guy named Rollins spoke, "well, it seems as if she just disabled the keypad, effectively locking us out of that room."

Brock turned wide astonished eyes on her and she saw the moment rage took over, he slowly approached the glass doors looking down at Sam, "now, I am not in the business of hurting children, so if you undo what you did and open this door right now, I promise that you will not be harmed. We just want what is in that safe behind you." He spoke calmly even though he definitely wanted to throttle Sam at that point.

Sam did believe him that if she did as told, she would have been left unscathed, but in turn if they got what they wanted, a lot more people would be hurt, possibly killed. Knowing she would only allow that to happen when hell froze over, she channelled her inner Randy Jackson and threw up her middle finger "that's a no from me dawg."

The smiles she got in return were malevolent as the group of five men stared her down.

He turned to the men standing behind him. "Let this day be known as the day I made an exception to a rule." He turned back to her suddenly, gun raised, finger on the trigger and fired.

Sam ducked waiting for the bullet, pain and more than likely death to hit her, but none of that came. She slowly opened her eyes that she had squeezed closed and saw where the bullet should have pierced the glass, looking warped with the bullet lodged in the spot. Her eyes took in the entire structure of the glass doors and realised that not only were they reinforced to prevent the glass from breaking, but it was fucking bullet proof as well. 

"Suck on that!" She jeered, but the smile instantly dropped from her face when she saw five assault rifles pointed at her.

"Last chance little girl." Brock said and when Sam did nothing, they all started firing at the glass.

Sam's instincts kicked in and she vaulted over the large metal work table, taking cover should a bullet pierce a weak point in the now bullet riddle glass. There was a moment of silence when the shooting stopped and she peeked her head over the top of the table to see that the men were reloading their guns. She looked at the only thing separating her from them and knew it would not last another round and that she had to get out of there. But there was nowhere to go. She spied the vent, but the space was too small to crawl through. Looking around again, she saw the reinforced windows on the other side of the testing room. Making up her mind, Sam shot up from her hiding space, ran over to where the safe was and pushed on the wall.

"Hey!" Brock banged on the glass. "Little girl! Look here!"

Sam had her hand up, poised to enter the code when she turned and saw a gun being held to Seoung's head.

"I swear," Brock said through gritted teeth, "this is your last fucking chance. If you do not open this door right now, I will put a bullet through this man's head and when I get in there, I will show you why you do not mess with grown men."

That was no threat; that was a promise and one he intended on keeping. He pushed the gun harshly against the guard's head. "Do you want his blood on your hands?"

The guard who was a new father looked at her and smiled. "I named my daughter after you; I hope she grows up to be a fighter like you Sam." What he did next shocked everyone in the room as he grabbed hold of Brock's hand on the gun and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was muffled on Sam's end, but the effect was the same; there was a sudden jerk of the guard's body, blood sprayed from his head and he dropped weightless to the ground, blood running from the hole in his head to pool on the floor.

Sam looked from the body, up to Brock's green eyes, with renewed fight, she keyed in the code for the safe and grabbed the thumb drive, shoving it in her pocket.

"I know that little bitch did not just pocket what we came here for." The young blonde man said. 

Brock looked as if he was done with all the shit that had happened in the last five minutes. "Get the C-4, we are blowing this shit."

That gave Sam an idea of her own. She eyed the window and the steel edging that sealed it within the wall and then her surroundings, she was in the testing area of one of the most advanced chemistry and biology labs in the world; she needed something that would give a thermite reaction; she just needed to find chemicals that would go 'boom' when mixed together and she was sure to find them in here. The only catch was finding and mixing the correct ingredients together before the men blew open the door.

The men were still setting up the charges all around the steel casing so that gave Sam a little time as they were going to need a lot of fire power to blow through the structure. Sam began tearing through the cabinets and shelves in the room, trying to find what she needed, when she heard a voice call out to her.

"What are you doing now kid?"

Sam turned her attention to Brock who was leaning against the glass, looking bored but his sharp green eyes were on her. 

"Finding ingredients to make my own bomb." Sam answered nonchalantly. If it were another situation, Sam would have found it quite hilarious the way Brock's eyebrows tried to meet his hairline.

"You are trying to make your own bomb?" Brock was torn between being amazed, concerned that a child was trying to make a bomb and frustrated that they were apparently dealing with a genius kid of some kind that was slowing down their mission. He watched as the girl who the dead security guard referred to as 'Sam' dug through the cabinets and shelves looking for what she needed. "Don't you think that is a little dangerous?"

Without stopping her task of searching Sam fired back, "don't you think that what you are doing is dangerous?"

Brock had to chuckle, this kid pain in the ass as she might be was highly entertaining. "Well, I am being generously paid. What are you getting from putting yourself in harm's way?"

Sam stood on a chair to see on the high shelves. "Well, I have slowed you assholes down from achieving your goal. Do you even know what it is that you are after?"

"A thumb drive with information valuable to my employer."

"But do you know what that information is?" Sam stressed, getting annoyed when she did not find everything she needed to make her bomb. She glanced over to the door separating her from imminent death, the men were still setting up.

"I do not care about what is on it. I just need the fucking drive and I will tear it from your cold dead hands." Brock calmly stated. "I do not want to have to harm you, but I will do so if necessary and kid," he waved his arm at the barrier between them, "it is more than fucking necessary. So, last chance, open up, give us what we want and we will leave. I guarantee that you will not be harmed if you open this door right now."

Bending down to look in a low cabinet, Sam spoke, "he looks as if the moment this door is open he is going to kill me." Brock followed the line of direction in which Sam pointed to see the young blonde man staring at her with open contempt.

"Who? Mason? Nah, he won't hurt you. I won't let him."

Sam laughed, "I maybe thirteen, but I am not an idiot."

"Oh trust me kid, I definitely know you are not an idiot." Brock sighed, he knew this was not going to be a smash and grab, but he had no idea it would have been this difficult. He wanted to beat his head against the glass. "Come on kid, please just open the door."

"Did you really just say 'please'?" Mason asked, looking at Brock, bewilderment clearly shown on his face.

"Just do the fucking job you are being paid to do Mason."

"We are almost finished." He said and that got Sam's attention.

She hastily stood up and ran over to a shelf that was in the corner by the door, looking from something to produce a small flame when her eyes somehow spotted a bottle on the top shelf. Hopping up smoothly on the small desk that was beside it, she grabbed the bottle and read the label, her eyes snapping to the window she needed to get rid of. Without thinking about her movement, Sam confidently stepped off the desk, landing on the floor with a small thud, bottle in hand.

She walked by the glass door, close enough that if it was not there Brock could have reached out and grabbed her. He saw the look on her face and knew his men had to work faster to get what they wanted from her before she got out and away from them.

"What you got there Sam?"

At the sound of her name, Sam stopped to address him. Looking from the bottle to him, she held it up for him to see the label. "Something I would like to throw in your face right about now Brock."

"Hydrofluoric Acid?" The guy named Rollins questioned. "She has hydrofluoric acid Brock."

"I am assuming that is not a good thing from your tone and this little blood thirsty child over here." Brock backed up from the glass door as Sam walked over to another table and switched out the bottle's cover for one that sprayed liquids.

"Where are we with the charges?" He watched as Sam calmly walked over the window and with one final glance at him, she began spraying the liquid on the glass watching as the glass was rapidly burned through by the acid. It then clicked as to what she was going to do and he was both amazed and horrified. "This is the 41st floor Sam."

Sam sprayed the glass as much as she could to burn it away. When there was a big enough space for Sam to go through the window without hurting herself, she ran to the far side of the room and without thinking twice about it, she ran at full speed, jumped and hurled herself through the window. 

Brock was stunned for a moment by what he had just witnessed. "Fucking hell! Blow it now!"

Sam was weightless for a few seconds as her body flew through the air before gravity kicked in and her gymnastics training took over as she tucked and rolled into the fall. Landing unscathed on the rooftop of the hotel, Sam stood and looked up at where she had burned a hole through the window with acid, smiling at her hand work.

Just then there was a deafening explosion and the sound of glass shattering, along with angry shouts. Sam stood and watched as five angry faces filled the space of the window, sharing down at her with murderous intent.

Throwing up both her middle fingers Sam grinned brightly. 

"That was both amazing and dangerous Sam!" Brock shouted.

Sam simply shrugged, happy to have put some distance between them. She watched curiously, as they moved away from the window, wondering how they were going to exit the building with fire trucks and police cars pulling up. She just needed to make it down to the lobby, get to her father and she would be safe. However, all thoughts fled her as she saw a black blur launch itself through the window and drop into a roll like she did a few minutes ago.

She watched as Brock stood up, the smile falling from her face as she realised there was no reinforced barrier between them anymore.

"Time's up Sam." 

She was still one moment and then running like hell the next. Brock cursed and gave chase.

Sam ran as hard and fast as her legs could go, jumping over the colourful lounge chairs scattered around the roof top pool. For some reason the roof and pool at that time of day was void of people, but that did not stop Sam from screaming for help at the top of her lungs as she ran.

As she ran close to the edge of the pool, she saw Brock's reflection close behind her and turned left sharply once she could, hearing him slide and curse behind her. She just needed to make it to the door that led inside from the roof and she would be safe from him.

There was a loud bang and something hitting the off the metal door when she had reached for the handle. Letting out a surprised yelp, Sam ducked and doubled back, freedom and safety slipping from her fingers. She had ran to the other side of the roof top that gave way to a long drop with a building currently undergoing construction on the other side. 

The side of the building Sam saw had yet to be painted, the concrete raw but it was finished, with windows installed, armed with nothing but her gymnastics training and her quick thinking and a little fearlessness (her brother preferred the word 'craziness') sprinkled on top, Sam redoubled her efforts, ran to the edge of the rooftop and vaulted over the sheer drop between the hotel and the building next door, landing on a ledge that was no wider that four inches.

Sam plastered herself to the side of the building; her fingers gripping parts of the concrete that jutted out for decoration as she calmed her breathing and got use to the strong breeze that was now beating against her, thanks to the change in height and closed off space between the two buildings that gave the wind nowhere to go but up.

Brock looked on with a mixture of anger, shock, horror and admiration as Sam struggled to open the window.

She finally got the window open slipped inside turning to face Brock who was staring at her from the other building's rooftop. Winded from the last few minutes of rigorous activity, Sam flipped Brock the middle finger, slammed the window closed and disappeared.

"Brock what's happening?" Jack Rollins asked his leader over the shared comm unit.

"The little brat got away."

"Should we give chase?"

"No, I am going after her, just get to the building under construction across from the hotel without being seen and wait for my instructions." Brock took aim with his assault rifle and fired at the window Sam had used to escape him; once the glass had been cleared away he fired his grappling hook, when it caught on the window ledge above he tested its stability and satisfied that he was not going to fall to his death, Brock swung himself off the roof of the hotel across the sheer drop and straight through the window he had shot out, landing in a roll and getting to his feet in one smooth motion.

"I am in the building giving chase."

"Yeah, getting out of here is going to be a little harder than we thought." Jack replied. "There are cops and fire fighters everywhere."

Letting out a string of curses, Brock proceeded forward in the direction he saw Sam go. "I am going to kill that little girl dead when I get my hands on her." He had his hand gun drawn, slowly making his way across the open space filled with tools and equipment. His ears strained to hear the slightest sound, his guard not lowering at all. 

Brock knew better than to underestimate Sam from what he had seen of her so far. Not only was she fearless, but she could think quick under intense pressure, not to mention her sassy attitude was a little bit funny. As he walked through the empty shell of a half constructed building, his eyes swept from side to side, when he felt a slight shift in the air behind him and shifted immediately, dodging a hit from a piece of five inch thick rebar to his head that would have surely if not knocked him out, cause immense pain. 

However, Sam was quick, and brought the piece of steel bar up connecting with the hand in which Brock held his gun, making him cry out in pain and dropped the weapon. He lunged for it but Sam kicked it away to some far corner under a piece of heavy duty equipment.

Having passed being angry, Brock turned cold eyes on Sam who was wielding the piece of steel like a bat. "You can really make life hard for people Sam."

She smirked, "that's funny, my brother says that all the time."

They circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move. 

"Do you really think that you, a thirteen year old girl can go up against a trained Black Ops soldier?"

Sam readjusted her grip on her weapon, "well, so far I seem to have bested you and your team."

"You're rather cocky."

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "I am a genius, I know I am one but I am not cocky. All I can do in this situation is defend myself to the best of my ability and even if you take me out, you won't get what you want." Sam's gazed did not waver as she spoke. "What do you think I was doing when you couldn't find me?""

That brought Brock up short, "what did you do with the thumb drive?" His eyes tracked over her form as if searching for some tell-tale sign that it was still on her.

Her smirk said it all and he was five seconds away from wiping that smug look from her face.

"Bullshit." Anytime Brock thought back to this moment in time, he would always curse himself for what he did next. His eyes left Sam to cast about the bare half-done walls, the equipment, the concrete blocks and the cement bags when he felt a sudden sharp pain in his knee.

Brock's knee that Sam had hit gave out and he fell, she raised the bar to hit him again, but he grabbed it when she swung it down wrenching it from her hands, throwing it far away from them while using his elbow to jab her painfully in her stomach.

Sam stepped back a few paces, doubling over and coughing from the hit. She sucked in a breath and glanced up to see Brock slowly getting back to his feet. Her eyes locked on the staircase behind him and she made a run for it, her feet hitting each step, as Brock cursed behind her and gave chase. When she had felt his fingers brush against her shirt, she began jumping over a few steps to try and create more distance between them.

That method work for a while before during a jump, Brock slammed his body into hers, causing them both to fall and roll down the remaining set of steps. Groaning in pain Sam crawled away from him.

"Where do you think you are going?" Brock grabbed her ankle, pulling her back towards him, the dust and concreted fragments on the ground cutting her delicate skin. He flipped her over on her back and stared down at her. "Enough is enough." His words harsh and his breathing heavy. "You are going to give me that fucking thumb drive right now, so help me God I will-"

His words were cut off with another pained groan, this time from Sam kicking him in his crotch. He released her ankle in favour of holding his hurting precious manhood, his other hand cushioning his head as he folded over on himself. Sam shakily got to her feet and took off, her receding footsteps echoing in the wide open space.

"Sam!" Brock roared. Getting to his feet, he hissed in pain as the movement jarred his hurting manhood, as well as his bruised pride of a teenage girl getting the better of him. "I swear to God, if you have made me incompetent, I am going to sear your skin from your bones."

That threat shook Sam as she hid behind a wall, the thumb drive that she lied about having hid burning a hole through her chest where she had hidden it in her shirt, figuring it was safer there than in her pockets where its outline would definitely be seen.

"Sam." 

She heard Brock's footsteps getting closer to where she was and her eyes snapped over to another set of stairs that led down. She just needed to make it to them and she would be able to get out of the building and away from him.

"Sam?" This time there was a question in Brock's voice. "Is that short for Samantha?"

Sam held her breath, refusing to be trapped; she knew what Brock was trying to do. Her ears listening to the sound of him coming closer processed the exact moment she no longer heard any sound coming from him. Holding her breath, Sam steeled herself and as cautiously as she could she slowly peeked her head around the wall but saw no sign of him. Feeling brave enough to leave her hiding spot, Sam stepped away from the wall still looking to where she had last seen him.

"Hey kiddo."

Sam jumped and shrieked when she heard that menacing voice behind her. Turning around she saw Brock standing tall before her, having no idea where he came from.

"Ready to stop this nonsense and hand over the thumb drive?"

Her body running on adrenaline and instinct, Sam took off running towards the set of stairs she had been eyeing only for her way to be blocked by Brock.

"Not this time Sam!"

She dodged his grab for her, running around him bypassing the stairs. Sam ran through the unfinished building, Brock hot on her heels dodging work equipment, jumping over any and everything in her way trying to out run Brock. It all came to a head, however, when Sam pushed aside a plastic curtain separating two sections, it was after she did so that she saw the wide gap in the floor. With no time to stop she used her momentum to push her forward, her legs and arms wind milling through the air, trying to get that extra push to make it to the other side which she did.

Brock just a few seconds behind Sam, also had no choice but to jump, he landed on the other side rolling a few times before coming to a stop. He got to his hands and knees, looking up to see where Sam was, only for his heart to stop.

Sam was barely hanging on to the edge of the floor that gave way to a long drop below. 

"Shit!" He was up and scrambling over to her in that instant, intent on grabbing her and pulling her to safety.

The floor was covered in saw dust and concrete dust, making it so that Sam was unable get a proper grip and pull herself up. Just as she saw Brock coming to her rescue, she felt her grip slacken and gravity pulled her body down.

Unable to hold in the scream as she fell, Sam's hands shot out blindly and she held onto something, stopping her sudden decent. Looking at what she had caught hold on, she saw that it was a steel beam. Once she was sure that she had a proper hold, Sam swung herself up on it, swinging her leg over it so that she straddled it and looked down at the floor far beneath her.

Sam chanced a glance back up from where she had fallen and saw that Brock was no longer there. Not taking the time to try and figure out where he had disappeared to, she slowly begun making her way across the beam and back to solid ground. Once she was back on her feet, her relief was short lived as she felt something grab her from behind, lifting her off her feet only for her back to connect with the hard surface of a work table knocking the breath from her lungs.

Furious green eyes stared into her dark brown ones and she knew that she had finally been caught.

"You know." Brock said from between gritted teeth, "I have a little brother around your age and he is not half as annoying as you are. He is also the reason why I have not put a bullet between your eyes as yet."

Not knowing when to quit, Sam shot back "sure it's not because you have lost both your guns?"

Brock's face became even darker with anger and he pulled Sam up by the grip he had on her shirt before slamming her back down on it. Sam winced as pain laced her back. Brock grinned, even in the face of imminent danger, this child would not back down; she might have been scared, but she was not running.

"I like you Sam. Sure you have been a pain in my ass, but I like you."

He had Sam pinned down on the table, his hand on her throat with her legs hanging over the edge.

"Then let me go since you like me."

"Sure," Brock's voice was too cheery, "just hand over the thumb drive and I will let you be on your way."

"No." Sam felt his fingers tightened subtly around her neck but kept speaking. "Do you even know what is on it? That if it falls into the wrong hands, a lot of people can get hurt? That they can be killed?"

There was a moment of silence where Sam in her teenage way of thinking thought she had gotten through to Brock.

"Hmmp, I should probably raise my fee is this thing is so damn important."

"You said that you are Black Ops that means you are a soldier."

Brock had no idea where that question came from but answered nonetheless. "Yes, I am."

"A soldier for the U.S.?"

"Yes Sam."

"Fuck you, you traitor." Sam began earnestly kicking, trying to get away from Brock who tightened his hold on her neck to the point where black spots starting dancing in her vision. Suddenly the pressure on her throat was gone and she coughed, greedily pulling oxygen into her starved lungs. 

"Listen Sam," Brock's voice sounded oddly gently and when she could focus her eyes again, he was looking down at her with a resigned expression. "I have never hurt a child before and I do not intend to start now, so just hand over the thumb drive and we will never see each other again.

"Suck my dick." She spat and Brock's eyebrows flew up.

"Why do you curse so much?"

Sam laughed, "well you don't seem to understand proper human language."

The smile on Brock's face was not nice. The next thing Sam was aware of was a slight breeze by her face and a thudding sound. Looking to the side of her head, Sam saw Brock's finger-less gloved hand wrapped around the black non-slip grip of a knife with a wicked looking black blade, or at least what she could see of it consider majority of the blade of embedded through the wood of the work table close to the side of her head.

"Let's try this again, without the cursing please."

"Drop dead and go to hell."

Brock sighed and rolled his eyes skyward as if asking for strength and patience. "Fine, be that way." With one hand still holding Sam down, his other hand began patting down her jeans clad legs, feeling her pockets both front and back, all the while ignoring Sam's indignant shouts. His hand moved down her calves to the hem of her pants that he raised up to check her socks. 

"Stop touching me!" Sam wiggled, trying to get away from the roaming hands. "I did not hide it in my pockets, socks or shoes asshole!"

"One: stop cursing and two: where did you hide it?"

Sam glared at Brock and he glared back, neither backing down. Sam huffed a breath when she realised that they had been staring each other down for a full minute. 

"It's in my shirt." She finally revealed where she had hid the thumb drive.

"I beg your pardon."

"A little too late for that. I hid the fucking thumb drive in my shirt jackass."

Sam's world suddenly tilted again when she was dragged off the table and stood up right.

Brock gestured to her, "take it out."

"Sure you don't want to get it yourself?"

"I am not sticking my hand down the shirt of a thirteen year old girl. That is just begging for trouble."

Sam levelled him with a flat look. "You just felt up my legs." She pointed out.

"I did not- just give me the damn thumb drive."

"Alright, fine, no need to get your boxers in a twist."

Sam reached into her once white shirt that now had a light brown colour thanks to all the running, rolling and falling that she did only for a look of confusion to come over her face before she was pulling the neck of her shirt away from her chest to look down it. Sam's look of confusion turned to horror as she looked up at Brock.

"What?" Brock knew that look did not bode well.

Sam began shaking her shirt and when nothing fell out she became panicked. "Oh God. Oh no." She spun in circles, her eyes wildly roaming the floor around her.

Brock squeezed his eyes shut, counted to ten and opened them again. "You lost the thumb drive."

"I had it." Sam was still spinning. "I swear I had it. I put it in my shirt when I came over here." She was in distress, not knowing what was now going to happen since she had lost what Brock was chasing her for.

Brock frustratingly ran a hand through his hair and turned his back to Sam to speak into his communicator. "Jack, the thumb drive has been lost."

"What?!"

"Get the men and -"

Whatever he was about to say next was cut off and his vision went black. Sam stood behind him with a steel pipe clutched tight in her hands watching as his body fell to the floor with a thud. Not waiting for his back up to arrive, Sam high tailed it out of the unfinished building. Everyone was so concerned with what was happening next door at the research facility that Sam battered and bruised as she was, was able to slip through the crowd that had gathered and into the hotel. 

Once inside she made a beeline towards the receptionist desk only to feel a hand on her shoulder spinning her around. Fearing the worse Sam opened her mouth to scream before her eyes landed on the warm brown eyes of her father, concern etched in his face as he took in her frazzled appearance. 

"Sam? What happened?"

The adrenaline finally leaving her body and the last hour catching up on her Sam felt tears gather in her eyes and knowing that she was safe with her father she began crying. Harry not knowing what exactly took place in the time he left Sam to now seeing her dirty and scratched up, he took her into his arms and carried her back to their hotel suite.

Sam took a shower and changed into her pyjamas feeling a little bit better, she found her father sitting on the balcony of their hotel room and went and sat on his lap, curling up as small and tight as she could, resting her head on his chest she listened to his heartbeat.

Harry wrapped his arm around her, the other stroking her hair. "Ready to talk now?"

With a tired sigh, Sam regaled her father with what had happened half an hour after he had left her. Harry listened, his mood often switching from amazement to horror and back at hearing how his daughter had been fearless and determined to keep potentially dangerous information from a bunch of highly trained mercenaries and succeeded in doing so.

"So where is the data now?" Harry had to ask only to be astonished when Sam began crying hysterically again. 

"It's in my suitcase, but daddy we need to destroy it!" She wailed, fat tear drops rolling down her face as Harry consoled her. "It...can't...be...used." She said in between hiccups.

"Sam, darling a lot of lives are depending on that data."

"Two lives were lost today and you almost lost me because of that data." Sam pointed out, staring down her father.

"And just what do you propose we do?"

"Destroy it and say it was lost, which technically would not be lie."

"You say it as if it is so simply."

Sam removed herself from her father's lap and stand at her full height which was not much, her hands on her hips. "It is that simply. You said that everything regarding Meminisse is on that thumb drive, so we just get rid of it and no more potential formula for a nerve gas."

"I can't just do that Sam."

"Can't or won't?" Her tone was cold and her eyes narrowed.

"I do not appreciate your tone of voice Samantha. A lot of work went into that; people put in a lot of hours so that we could create that Sam, to help others in need."

"So what, the fact that it can help people outweighs the fact that if it falls into the wrong hands it can be extremely deadly?"

Harry sometimes forgot that his daughter was only thirteen when she argued with him like this; making valid points without raising her voice. "If Sam, if it does fall into the hands of unscrupulous individuals."

"You mean like today where Lee and Seoung were killed for it and I had to jump from two buildings to keep it away from Brock and his goons."

"Brock? Who's Brock?"

Irritated, Sam rolled her eyes, "the guy who chased me dad. Please, do try and keep up."

"Sam, just go and get the thumb drive."

"Wow." She dragged out the word, her eyes widening. "You sound a lot like Brock. Wanting nothing but the fucking thumb drive."

"Language." Her father called to her as she walked back into her room to retrieve the thumb drive.

"Here." She threw it at her father who was standing inside the sitting room. She watched as he grabbed it out of the air, then as he took up the heavy abstract art looking figurine and knelt down on the floor. "Dad?"

Sam jumped at the sound of the figurine’s heavy base smashing the thumb drive. She watched with wide eyes as Harry repeated the act three more time, ensuring that the thumb drive that held all the date for Meminisse was smashed to pieces. He placed the figurine on the floor and looked up at Sam.

"There, no more potential nerve gas."

Sam smiled at what her father had just done and ran to embrace him. "Thank you." He wrapped his arms around her and stood, lifting her off the ground.

"Let's go home. Since there's no data, there will be no conference and no point in sticking around."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, her face buried in her father's neck.

"I can't wait for Billy to hear about this."

Sam groaned at the mention of her older brother's name. "Billy won't care, he's a narcissistic asshole, just because he got a pretty face."

"Oh, don't be like that Sam." Harry smiled at her, "you have a pretty face too." He received rolled eyes in response.

"He needs to read 'The Picture Of Dorian Gray'. Maybe then he will learn not to be concerned with only his looks." 

"That is not true and you know it. He is also concerned with his business."

"Whatever."

"You can recommend that book to him when we get home." Harry placed her back on the floor, "now go and pack, we are leaving tomorrow." He watched as she ran back into her room before looking down at the smashed pieces before him. "The things we do for our children."


Contrary to popular belief, it was not the first time that Sam Wilson and Brock Rumlow were meeting each other on that freeway in Washington D.C., nor was it the first time they physically fought on the 41st floor of a building.

When Sam saw his face again that day on the freeway while being wrongfully arrested, she was not sure if it was the same person.

But after getting the report from Maria Hill and hearing the name Brock Rumlow, she definitely knew it was the same man she had ran from twenty years earlier as a thirteen year old child with nothing but her gymnastics training and her quick thinking aiding her. Sam had no idea if he remembered her but that did not stop her from preventing him from achieving his goal yet again and this time she was equipped with the proper training to beat his ass into the ground. 

When the Triskelion came crashing down, she had asked around if they had found his body to which she was informed that any bodies found were badly disfigured and it would take time identifying them all.

So when two years after the fall of Project Insight, after having found Bucky and assisting Steve in bringing him home, Sam received a call to report to Avengers Tower, she was wholly unprepared to walk into the meeting room only to come face to face again with Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins and have them stare her down.

She was given the rundown that they had decided to turn themselves in and give up all of HYDRA's secrets, so they all sat at the long glass meeting table, Sam on one side, sitting between Steve and Bucky with Brock and Jack right across from her, still staring her down as she stared back.

The shit hit the fan with a vengeance during Brock's report of a mission from twenty-years ago when he and his team tried stealing highly classified research data from a research facility in Hong Kong. Tony had pulled up some lost security video feeds, that the entire Avengers team, saw a thirteen year old Sam Wilson with defiance on her face, stare down a group of highly armed and dangerous men from the other side of a glass door with one Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins at the fore front. 

All eyes slowly looked from the video Sam, Brock and Jack.

The entire room was dead silent before it erupted in pandemonium. Both Brock and Jack were out of their seats, leaning menacing over the table and pointing at Sam.

"I knew you looked familiar." Brock accused, righteous anger burning in his hazel eyes.

Steve looked between Sam and Brock, confused while Bucky was tense, ready to fight at a moment's notice. Tony was busy trying to find if there were other cameras in the area that had picked up the chase, while Bruce had politely excused himself from what was quickly becoming a stressful situation. Natasha, sat back in her chair, feet up on the desk, ankles crossed, watching the scene before her with calculating green eyes and a smirk on her face. Meanwhile Clint was taking in everything with a bored sleepy look on his face.

"Do you know how much trouble you caused for us that day?" Jack looked ready to lunge over the table and throttle her.

Sam felt the start of a migraine as she remained seated and calm; her eyes on the two men before her as flashbacks to that day ran through her mind. 

Tony managed to quiet them down when he said that he had more footage and pulled it up. 

They did not see what happened after Sam managed to escape the lab, but they saw the climax of the chase, where Brock had caught up to Sam in the building that was under construction. The team watched the interaction between the two, up until Sam knocked Brock unconscious with a steel pipe.

"Atta girl!" Tony cheered, giving Sam a high five at which Brock glared at her for.

"I still can't believe a thirteen year old girl got the better of us." Jack commented as he watched the video. His eyes widening when he saw Sam drop the steel pipe and reach into her shirt, pulling out the thumb drive she had told Brock she had lost and putting it in her pocket. "Holy shit." He breathe.

In the blink of an eye Brock had launched himself over the table, his aim Sam's neck. "You lying little bitch! You said that you lost it!" Sam was up and out of her chair, Steve and Bucky getting in between them before Brock could do anything. 

Sam smartly exited the room as the team held back a murderous Brock, running into Bruce when she entered the communal kitchen.

"What happened?"

She laughed and shook her head, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. "Let's just say that things are going to be even more interesting now with Brock and Jack."

Bruce didn't bother to question her further, knowing that he would find out later. Opting now to sit in peace and quiet with Sam, while pandemonium still reigned a few floors up.